The Illusion
by shelby.fay
Summary: 1899: Edward and Bella fell in love as young kids, but were torn apart by Bella's noble family. Now Bella's engaged to the Prince of Austria, and Edward's a famous magician--will love return when they meet again? Jealousy, affairs, murders, mystery ... AH
1. The Arrest

**Author's Note: This is yet another idea I just got and had to try out, so some feedback please? Ok, based on **_**The Illusionist**_** and the **_**Twilight**_** characters. **

**FULL SUMMARY: The acclaimed illusionist Eisenheim has not only captured the imaginations of all of Vienna, but also the interest of the ambitious Crown Prince Michael. But when Michael's new fiancé rekindles a childhood fascination with Eisenheim, the Prince's interest evolves into obsession . . . And suddenly the city's chief inspector finds himself investigating a shocking crime. But even as the inspector engages him in a dramatic challenge of wits, Eisenheim prepares for his most impressive illusion yet.**

**ATTENTION: I will not bring in any characters except Edward (Eisenheim), Bella, Mike (Prince Michael), and Charlie (Chief Inspector Charles Uhl). Remember, Charlie in this will not be Bella's father - her parents won't be named. **

**Disclaimer (and this goes for the entire story): I don't own **_**anything**_**! -Tear-**

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1. The Arrest

There was an enormous attraction in Vienna in 1899 - a "magic man" a "sorcerer" an "illusionist" ruled the shows of the city, and no one dared to miss one of his fantastic programs. The rich of Vienna were the only ones who could afford tickets now that he'd become so popular. They gathered in the small auditorium that the magician himself had bought, sat, and waited expectantly.

Finally, a tall man with bronze hair and bewitching emerald-green eyes walked onto the stage, carrying nothing, saying nothing, expressing nothing on his face except all the sadness of the world. He walked to the center of the stage and sat in the single chair occupying it, along with a small table.

The audience waited expectantly, and the magician focused so completely on his task that he was oblivious to the Chief Inspector sitting in the front of the audience, warning him with his eyes, and the rows of policeman waiting equally as expectantly, though not for the same thing as the rest of the audience. Slowly, the firelights at the front of the stage turned their flames away from him, blowing towards the audience. More slowly still, a bluish-gray light began forming at the magician's left, becoming larger and more defined as the time progressed.

Suddenly, a woman jumped up in the audience, pointing and gasping, "It's her! I know it's her! She wants to tell us something! We must do something! Please!"

The woman's husband hurriedly tried to pull her down before the police could get her, and the rest of the audience began jumping to their feet and crying out in amazement. They rushed to the stage as the rows of policeman formed a human gate around it, while the Chief Inspector rose to the stage and stood next to the "sorcerer." He looked dreadful at what he had to do, but he knew his very career depended on it, and so he was resigned. The crowd grew louder and more forceful, trying to get at the magician's apparition to help her, but the police pushed them back roughly. The inspector looked at the magician with disappointment, and the magician stared back with calm emerald eyes. He knew what he'd done, and he knew the punishment for it, and he was not ashamed of it. He'd do it again if he had the chance.

The Chief Inspector cleared his throat. "In the name of his Imperial Majesty and the city of Vienna," he called out, striving to be heard over the ever-growing voices of the angry crowd, "I hereby arrest Edward Masen -" The audience gasped as one, and rushed to the stage, trying to protect their hero. " - also known as Eisenheim the Illusionist on charges of disturbing public order, charlatanism, and threats against the empire!"

By the end of this statement, the poor man had to shout to be heard over the crowd, who were shouting themselves, furiously trying to get to the Illusionist.

Many cries of "Leave him alone!" and "No!" were heard, but try as they might, the people could not get past the human blockade of policeman. One man, realizing it was futile, rushed outside to where the Illusionist's poorer fans waited anxiously for his latest achievement and shouted at them, "They're arresting him! They're arresting Eisenheim!"

A policeman caught up with the man, and pulled him back in roughly, but not before the crowd outside heard. They, too, rushed in, eager to protect their hero, shouting and screaming all the while.

* * *

Crown Prince Michael furiously sat at his desk and wrote as if his entire soul was absorbed in his writing alone, barely controlling the naked hatred in his soul. He looked up as one of his servants entered the room, managing to keep his face expressionless.

Michael wasn't an unhandsome young man: blonde, blue-eyed, slim figure - but his eyes were cold and his very manner put fear into the hearts of all who beheld him, because it spoke of insanity.

"Chief Inspector Uhl," the servant announced. Michael impatiently nodded, commanding him silently to leave. The door closed behind the obsequious man. The inspector walked in slowly, taking his time, already having made his choice. He wasn't happy with it, but he could not do anything about that. Michael looked at him expectantly, but the inspector said nothing.

Finally, Michael said, "You're late."

Chief Inspector Uhl bowed his head humbly. "My apologies, Your Highness. I was attending to the loose ends of the case."

Michael's gaze sharpened instantly, and he said severely, "Are there still loose ends?"

Again, that humble head-bow. "Very few," consented the inspector, before falling silent again.

Michael grew more impatient as time went on. Finally he said, frustrated, "Did he do it again?"

The Chief merely nodded.

"How does he do it?" demanded Michael.

"I'm afraid I still don't know," murmured Chief Inspector Uhl, looking at the ground.

Michael looked at his in blatant disbelief. "Did you ask him?" he asked in a tone that indicated its obviousness.

"He's not talking at this point," muttered the Chief bitterly.

Michael looked back to his work and said calmly, if not absently, "Well, I'm sure you have . . . methods . . . for that kind of thing." Michael looked back up and said, in that same frighteningly calm voice, "I want you to put an end to it. Surely you have something on him. Something from his past?"

The Chief was silent for a long moment. Then he looked, making his decision, and nodded. "Yes," he said slowly. "Yes, I think I do."

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**Sorry that was so short and boring. It'll get better, I promise. Review, please! **


	2. A Chance Encounter

**Author's Note: From here on out are FLASHBACKS, with the Chief narrating (still speaking to the Prince) occasionally in italics, gotcha? I'll let you know when the flashback is over.**

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2. A Chance Encounter

Many years ago, a man steadily and patiently carved at a beautiful wooden table, while his strikingly handsome son of about fifteen with bronze hair and emerald eyes carved at the legs, sitting underneath the table. The son wiped the sweat from his brow, but continued working patiently.

_In fact, we know all about his life. We've spoken to almost everyone who ever knew him. _

The same boy walked down a grassy lane, with a single tree along a ways, later in the afternoon.

_As a boy, I'm told he had a chance encounter with a traveling magician. _

He carried only a bag, and nothing else, but seemed cheerful enough - until he noticed the man sitting under the tree. He faltered a little in his walk, unsure of the man, before decided to continue walking and ignoring the man's presence. This plan failed him, though, because as soon as he was within two feet of the stranger, the man called out, "Boy."

Edward slowly turned and gazed at the man, who held up an empty hand, and then twisted it in the air in a fist, and then opened it again to reveal a toad squirming in his palm. Edward's emerald eyes widened in amazement as he watched them man close his fist again, and then pull a rose from it with the other. Nor did the man stop there - he shook the rose several times, until it turned into a flute before the boy's very eyes, and Edward took a step back and gasped as the flute flew away of its own accord.

_One version of the story was that the man himself then vanished, along with the tree. Who knows what actually happened? _

Edward sat beside his bed that night, with an open book laid out in front of him, depicting illusions, and he held a red ball in his hand. He thought for a moment, remembering the exact knack of how the trick worked, and then closed his fist, opening it slowly to reveal nothing, took the ball out from under his knee, closed it in his fist, and opened it slowly to reveal nothing again. A delighted grin spread across his face as he realized how well he'd done.

The next morning, Edward decided to try another trick he'd read about in his books: balancing an egg on a stick while walking. He thought he'd try it on his way home from school, and so he walked down the street, causing passerbys to stop and stare amusedly, while he held out his perfectly balanced egg on a slim stick.

_People began to think he had some kind of special power, or at least that he was a bit different. And then he met her._

As Edward walked down the street with his carefully balanced egg, he failed to notice the group of four teenagers his own age riding horseback from another direction and wearing finer clothes than anyone in the village. There was one girl, a pretty brunette with large, kind eyes and a full, expressive mouth, that paused on her trip with her three companions. She smiled as she saw Edward trying to complete his mission with his egg, but frowned as her friends began calling to him, attempting to distract him.

"Don't drop it," one of the boys said.

"Careful, you're going to trip," another said in a mock-worried tone.

"Drop it, you muck snipe!" another yelled.

"Oh! Watch out for that hole, alley rat!" the first one shouted. "Drop it!"

"Come on," said the second, and the boys rode off, either not noticing or not caring that the girl was no longer with them. She had followed Edward on horseback as he continued his quest for the house.

Later that afternoon, Edward and Bella (newly acquainted as such) sat on Edward's bedroom floor. Edward, if he admitted it to himself, was showing off a bit. He wanted to impress the pretty girl who seemed to be fascinated with his tricks.

"Pick a card," Edward said, extending the deck towards Bella. She slowly put out a hand and, carefully making sure he wasn't cheating, glanced at it briefly before hiding its face from him. "Put it back in the deck," Edward instructed, and Bella obeyed, smiling expectantly. Edward began to get nervous. It was his first time performing this trick for anyone other than himself, and he was worried it might not work. He nervously glanced at Bella's pretty face one more time before his focus went to the deck of cards. "Now, watch," he said, and he held up a hand above the deck. Slowly, her chosen card floated out of the deck and into the air. Bella gasped delightedly, and Edward caught the card just as two women furiously entered the room.

"Duchess Swan!" one of them scolded, yanking Bella off the ground. "You cannot be in a place like this. They're peasants. Remember who you are."

Bella turned to look unhappily and regretfully at Edward as she was led from the room. Edward couldn't just watch her leave, especially with that pitiful expression. He followed her and her servants out of his house and watched as they rode off in a carriage, leading Bella's horse behind them. Edward ran after the carriage, following it until they turned a corner and he was stopped by a guard at a gate. Bella heard the guard, and turned to look around curiously at who they hadn't let pass. When she saw Edward, her entire lovely face lit up with delight, and she waved at him. As she turned around again, though, her face dropped back into disappointment and regret, which was obviously something Edward wasn't meant to see. He made up his mind then and there that he was not going to say goodbye to that girl. Not like that. But how could he see her again? His eyes reluctantly left Bella to linger on the castle she was driving to, and his eyes narrowed, thinking of their social differences.

_She was brought back to the castle, and they were forbidden to see each other. But soon, they were doing just that. Over the next few years, they could always find a way to be together._

Years later, the young Edward and Bella had made a small hideaway home, camouflaged in the roots of an enormous tree on some of Bella's father's land. They always ran to it when they could, hoping to see the other.

Edward had found out many things about Bella in the past few years. He learned that she was the only child of a Duke, and her husband would inherit everything her father owned, which was why she was practically forbidden to meet any boys other than those her parents selected for her - and obviously Edward wasn't in that category. He also found out that while he was seventeen years old, she had barely turned fifteen. She was also kind, and funny, and smart, and beautiful. Edward knew what was wrong with him - he'd heard it gossiped about often enough by those stupid girls at school - he was in love with her.

Tonight was just their luck. They literally ran into each other at the door. Bella accidentally let out a giggle of surprise and delight before Edward shushed her, although he was grinning, too. They had to be quiet here, or they would be heard and found out. Edward opened the hidden door for her, and said, "Come on."

Bella walked in ahead of him and he followed, sitting across from her on the small bench he'd built in their small one-room hideaway. He'd learned some other interesting news, and he wanted to share it with her.

"In China, there's a magician that could make anything disappear," Edward told her, his voice failing to conceal his fascination with the subject. "A house, a wagon, anything."

Bella nodded, but she didn't smile as she usually did she heard his love of tricks in his voice. "We'll go visit him," she said seriously. "They can't stop us if we want to be together."

"They'll never find us," Edward agreed, smiling crookedly.

"Do you promise you'll take me with you?" Bella asked seriously.

Edward looked at her for a moment before nodding. "One day I will," he promised.

Bella looked away from him, staring shyly at the wall before turning back him, smiling more shyly still. "One day, we'll runaway together. We'll disappear."

She smiled for a moment, before growing serious again. She leaned forward and hesitantly, shyly, kissed his cheek. Edward followed her with his eyes as she sat back, and then leaned forward and kissed her on her full lips, unconsciously putting a hand on her knee in the process. She kissed him back for a few moments, and then pulled back, smiling at him tenderly. Shy as she was, and new as they both were to this whole thing, Edward could tell that she felt the same way about him as he did for her.

The entire next week, Edward was too busy to try to get away to their hidey hole of a secret house. He was consumed with his new project - a locket. Since his father was a wood craftsman, he knew his way around wood as well, and the locket only took him a week to make. He strung it from rope, and at the end of the week eagerly rushed to Bella's castle gates to give it to her. She met him there, confused and wondering. There, they could only be cordial and polite, as any duchess would greet her peasant. If he wanted to see her, why didn't he just meet her at the secret house?

Edward extended the hand he held the locket in, and offered it to her. There was a beautiful butterfly design painted on the wood, and it was in the shape of an oval. She looked at in awe for a moment, before trying to open it from the side, and looking up at him in confusion when it didn't work. Edward smiled at her, gently taking it from her hands again.

"There's a secret way to open it," he explained, twisting the oval so that it cut across the middle diagonally, forming a heart. The design on the front also was rearranged so that it was a lovely but undefined shape. Then he slid the front cover around in a half circle, the bottom of the heart being the screw, to reveal a picture of himself in it.

Bella's smile was ecstatic, but then she grew serious again, almost sad. "I wanted a picture," she said, smile returning as she looked at him and kissed the picture. Edward looked down shyly, but was unable to keep his eyes off of her for very long, and looked back up, smiling.

Later that night, Edward and Bella had arranged to meet in the secret place, but when Bella finally entered the room after Edward had been waiting for almost an hour, she did not look happy at all. She was worried and frightened. Edward immediately got up, and she explained rapidly, "We must hurry! They're coming!"

They hurriedly closed the hidden door and sat quietly, Bella holding onto Edward in fear, for she knew if they found her, she would be watched for the rest of her time spent at this castle, and that meant she would never see Edward again. They could hear voices outside, calling her name, "Duchess Swan!" over and over again. An idea occurred to Bella.

"Make us disappear," she begged Edward. "Make us disappear!"

Edward tried to focus on his task, but his fear escalated as he heard footsteps and voices getting far too close. They'd surely see the door . . . There was no way he could do it. With all this worry, he couldn't keep his mind on disappearing, and the door flew open as the men found them. One yanked Edward out, another immediately grabbed Bella.

"Don't do this!" Bella begged them.

"Let go!" Edward shouted, struggling against two men pulling him away from Bella.

"Let me go," commanded Bella. "Let go!"

"Your father's waiting for you," the man holding her arms firmly said ominously.

"Let go!" Bella shouted, struggling and kicking against their hold.

Edward reached out a hand to Bella. "No!" he cried as the men shoved him back. Bella reached out for him, but he couldn't reach her . . . He _had _to reach her . . .

"Edward!" Bella cried as the men pulled her away.

"Please!" Edward begged the men, realizing his escape was futile. "Let her go! No! Let her go, please!"

Bella was finally dragged into a carriage, and driven away, and Edward was shoved to the ground.

"Bella," Edward said softly, realizing they'd probably never see each other again.

One of the men kicked him as a warning. "Stay away from her," he growled, "or next time we'll arrest you and your family."

The threat would have mattered nothing to Edward if the man had only said they'd arrest him, but when he said they'd arrest him family, too, he realized it was all over. Groaning, he fell back onto the ground and let the misery have him.

The next day, Edward left Vienna, carrying only a single bag and his the clothes on his back. He left nothing behind except his very soul, lying in the girl who was kept under house arrest at the castle.

_What happened next remains a mystery. We do know that he traveled the world, that he began to perform his magic in public, that he changed his name to Eisenheim. And then almost five years later, he appeared in Vienna._

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**That was a little better, right? Please? **

**Like it? Hate it? REVIEW!**


	3. Magic Tricks

**Author's Note: I'm sorry, because like a lot of people I like a good long story . . . But sadly, this will not be one of them. It's going to have like ten chapters depending on how I do it. . . . I don't know yet. This chapter is still a flashback, but it's four years after our other flashbacks, so Edward's 21 and Bella's 18.**

**I also forgot to say this in my other two chapters - this is ALL HUMAN.**

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3. Magic Tricks

Four years later, Edward made his first grand appearance in Vienna. There had been many rumors of this "magician's" show, and many, many rich people turned out to see it. The grand theater was almost entirely sold out for his first appearance.

Leopold, Edward's manager, greatly enjoyed attention on himself, but since he wasn't the main attraction, he had to settle for introducing Edward.

As the audience quieted down and the lights were focused on the stage, illuminating the red velvet curtains, Leopold moved onto the stage. "Life and death," he said in a solemnly ominous voice, "space and time, fate and chance. These are the forces of the universe. Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you a man who has unlocked these mysteries."

Backstage, Edward rolled his eyes. _This_ was exactly why Leopold had failed as an actor: far too dramatic.

"From the furthest corners of the world where the dark arts still hold sway," Leopold continued in his grim voice, "he returns to us to demonstrate how nature's laws may be bent." Edward had to hand it to the guy: he knew how to sell an audience. "I give you . . . Eisenheim."

As Leopold gestured dramatically and the audience applauded, Edward walked forward from a painting designed to make the stage look as if it were a long room, continuing into a oblivion. Women gasped at the sight of him, for he was incredibly handsome. He seemed completely at ease with hundreds of eyes upon him, and as he walked at his leisurely pace to the front of the stage, he took off his gloves. Stopping at the front of the stage, he threw his black gloves into the air, where they immediately turned into crows and flew away, cawing. The audience gasped and "oh!"ed as one.

Edward produced a box from behind his back, and opened it to the audience. "Might I borrow a handkerchief from someone?" he asked politely in his musical, velvet voice. Hundreds of women immediately threw their arms into the air, waving their handkerchiefs. Edward noticed a woman with two conveniently empty seats in front of her and sitting at the end of a row, waving a handkerchief, and chose her. "You, madam," he said as he walked towards her. Her seat was perfectly situated so that he could give her the box without stumbling over other people in the process - half of this job was you had to look good on stage, which meant no tripping over the audience.

He opened the box, took her handkerchief, raised it for the audience to see, and then placed it in the box. He closed the wooden box and handed it to the volunteer woman. "Thank you," he said, smiling slightly. She grinned back like an infatuated woman, completely forgetting where she was, only caught in the gaze of his emerald orbs like so many other women. It aggravated Edward when they looked at him like that - like he wasn't a person anymore, just something nice to gawk at - but he ignored the look. She glanced down at the box and began to open it. "Ah," Edward stopped her, smile broadening. "Be patient."

He turned around and gestured to the stage, where an assistant had already set up a table and an empty planter box. "Now, if you please," he said to the man, and the man picked up the pot for the audience to see it was empty.

Edward strolled back up to the stage, completely at ease. The other man bowed and walked off. "I would like to continue with an examination of time," he said, and the audience gasped as an orange materialized out of nowhere in his palm, and he made it dance around his hand as he spoke. "From the moment we enter this life, we are in the flow of it. We measure it, and we mark it, but we cannot defy it. We cannot even speed it up or slow it down." Edward looked at the audience with a smirk. "Or can we?" he asked them. He tossed the orange over his head and into his other palm. "Have we not each experienced the sensation that a beautiful moment seemed to pass too quickly," Edward began, raising his hand and dropping the orange vertically into his other, "and wished that we could make it linger?" Then Edward did something extraordinary - he repeated the same movements, dropping the orange vertically from one hand to the other, but this time as it fell, the orange slowed down, and comfortably reached his hand much slower than before. The crowd gasped again. Edward ignored them; he needed to focus. "Or felt time slow on a dull day, and wished that we could speed things up a bit?"

The assistant returned with a tray and a knife. Edward took the knife and cut the orange in half, then placed the knife and one half of the orange onto the tray. The other half he held up, removing one seed from its core. As Edward completed these actions, another man filled the pot with planting soil. Edward moved over to the pot and placed the seed on the very top, without even digging it in. Then he held his hand aloft over the pot, and closed his eyes. Moments passed as the audience began murmuring excitedly.

Slowly, a green sprout rose from the dirt and grew slowly until it became an orange tree, and, more slowly still, bloomed and oranges sprung from the branches. The audience gasped hugely. In that audience, Chief Inspector Uhl leaned forward interestedly, if not confusedly. He did not like it when he didn't understand things, and this was so completely beyond his imagination. The audience cheered and applauded loudly.

Edward plucked two oranges from the tree and threw them into the audience. "I assure you, they're quite real," he said, smiling. A man caught one, and everyone around him leaned towards it, asking, "Is it real? Let's see!"

Edward turned to his first volunteer. "And you, madam," he said, as the audience refocused on him, "where is your handkerchief?"

The woman opened the box in a state of shock, realizing it was empty, stood up and turned around so that she could show the audience there was nothing in it. Then everyone gasped hugely once again as Edward gestured to the far end of the cleverly painted picture, and two purple butterflies flew out of it, carrying the woman's handkerchief between them.

The audience leaped to their feet and applauded, while Edward bowed, unable to keep his triumphant smile off his face - his first show had been a success.

"Bravo!" Chief Inspector Uhl shouted along with them. "Very good," he told his wife, sitting next to him.

* * *

Early the next morning, Edward was walking along the street to the café where Leopold had arranged they meet. As he approached it, though, four boys in ragged clothes stopped him.

"Give us something, please," one begged.

"Please, give us something," echoed another.

"What's all this?" Edward asked, turning to face them, smiling slightly.

"We're poor," one boy informed him sadly.

Edward kneeled down so that his face was below theirs. "Do you think you're poor?" he asked them.

"Yes," the most talkative one answered, sounding assured.

Edward looked down and chuckled softly before looking back up at them. He took the handkerchief off one boy's neck and opened it before them. "I want to show you something," he told them. "You're not poor." He turned the handkerchief around his fingers, and plucked a shilling from it. "You have everything that you need," he said, as he went down the line of the four boys, giving each of them a shilling, "right here." He stopped at the owner of the handkerchief, who was looking at him expectantly. Edward handed him the kerchief. "And that's yours," he said, and then reached behind the small boy's shoulder, pulling out a whole handful of shillings, which he poured into the boy's open hands. "And this, too."

In his haste, the boy accidentally dropped many of the coins, and all four boys went scrabbling across the sidewalk, gasping in awe and delight, trying to get as many of the coins as they could.

"Thank you!" they all said ecstatically. Edward smiled at them all before continuing his walk to the café.

Upon entering, he found fat old Leopold reading the newspaper in a chair set for two, and sat across from him. "Good morning," he said.

"Good morning," Leopold answered, barely concealing a smile as he looked up from his paper. "Coffee?" he asked.

"No," Edward said, taking off his coat and sitting down.

"Strudel?" Leopold offered, pushing a plate forward. "I have two."

Edward gestured impatiently. "Nothing, thank you." When Leopold didn't get to the point, Edward prompted, smirking, "You look very pleased with yourself. How are the receipts?"

"Not bad," Leopold said, smiling complacently. "A three-quarter house."

"Well done," Edward praised.

"But we're going to do better than that," Leopold said, speaking quickly as Edward resisted the urge to roll his eyes. So this is what he was looking so smug about. Leopold opened his newspaper wider, and began to read from it. "Listen to this. Listen. 'There is no argument that his uncanny displays separate him from the ranks of garden-variety stage wizards. Some of his effects transcend mere illusion, and approach the realm of art. He is very young to be so masterful.' Do you see? We'll pack the house with this review."

Edward nodded, smiling humbly as he accepted the review, and then his smile broadened as Leopold began talking about a subject even more dear to him than himself: money.

"We are going to make more money than you ever dreamed of," Leopold informed him.

* * *

At that same time across the city, Chief Inspector Uhl sat at his desk, supposedly working with his underling on the protection of the prince and his future princess, but in reality discussing how Eisenheim the Illusionist had done those things last night.

"But if it was mechanical," protested his assistant. "Maybe he had it wrapped in some kind of bark?"

"Oh, I know, of course I thought of that," the Chief said, frustrated and waving an impatient hand. "It's the butterflies I'm trying to work out."

The assistant scoffed. "Oh, for Pete's sake," he sighed impatiently. "Invisible wire."

"Too obvious," the inspector dismissed before changing the subject. "How many men have you detailed for tonight?"

"We have eight men inside, another eight out front," the assistant answered promptly. Then he said mockingly, "Perhaps you'll get another look at your butterflies."

"Mm," the Chief murmured, looking over the notes on the details of the protection.

* * *

Later that afternoon, the Chief and several policemen came into Edward's theater. "Come on in. Check the last ten rows there," one policeman instructed the others, while the Chief went backstage.

The Chief noticed the empty can and table from the previous night's performance of the orange tree. He smirked in amusement, and began looking it over. Edward suddenly came out of an adjoining room, furious.

"You!" he demanded of the inspector. "Don't touch that!" He looked at another man picking up his accoutrements on the table. "Put that down!" he ordered.

"Ah," the Chief said in awed tones, "Herr Eisenheim."

Leopold stormed into the room after Edward demanding, "Who are you and what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm Chief Inspector Charles Uhl," the inspector said, "and I'm inspecting your theater." He pointed to Edward. "I've seen you perform. Very impressive. Very impressive."

Edward bowed his head humbly before asking a more much more calm voice, "How can we help you, Inspector?"

"You will be honored to know that the crown prince plans to attend your performance tonight," the Chief said plainly. Edward and Leopold looked at each other in amazement.

"The crown prince?" demanded Leopold.

"Yes!" said the Chief. "So, obviously, we have to inspect the theater." He unconsciously gravitated towards the orange pot again, and that did not escaped Edward's notice. He smirked.

"I think that one's a bit small for an assassin, don't you?" he asked the Chief.

The Chief chuckled. "Yes, the orange tree. You know, I have seen things like this before, but never one like that. Extraordinary."

"Thank you," said Edward simply.

"I have been puzzling over how it works," the inspector continued. "Especially how the butterflies fly. I assure you, your secret is safe with me. I'm an officer of the law, after all, and a bit of an amateur conjurer."

"Are you really?" Edward asked, politely disinterested.

"Yes," said the Chief. "Well, card tricks, coin, uh, sleight of hand, yes. But nothing fancy." He looked pointedly at the can. "Perhaps you'll give me a tip."

"Hmm." Edward glanced at the pot briefly before smiling and saying, "Yes, all right." The red ball from his childhood suddenly materialized in his hand. "I'll show you one I'm very fond of. Are you a gambling man?"

"On occasion, yes," the Chief answered expectantly.

Edward pointed with the hand holding the ball to the orange tree bucket. "I will bet you the secret of the orange tree that I can guess which hand you place this in every time."

The Chief smirked and put down his hat. "Excellent," he said, taking the red ball from Edward as Edward turned around.

"Put it in your fist," Edward instructed with his back to the Chief, "raise your hand against your forehead, concentrate on it, form a mental picture."

The Chief did as he was bidden to, placing the ball in his left fist and raising it to his forehead. "Yes," he said.

"Have you got it?" Edward asked.

"Yes," the inspector repeated.

"Put your hands in front of you," Edward commanded. The Chief held out his hands so that the ball was completely hidden. Edward turned around, glanced at the hands briefly, before grinning crookedly at the Chief. "It's in your left."

The Chief revealed the ball was in his left fist and began, "Well -"

Edward resisted rolling his eyes. "A lucky guess, perhaps," he said, repeating the phrase many people had accused him with.

The Chief pointed to Leopold, who was the only man left besides those two in the room, and accused, "You have a confederate who signals you."

"No," Edward said. "It's more primitive than that."

He extended his hand for his ball. The Chief obliged.

"When you raise your hand to your head," Edward explained, demonstrating, "the blood drains from it." He extended both hands after having raised one. "It will be paler every time."

The Chief smiled slowly. "Oh," he said equally as slowly. "Oh, I like that very much."

Edward extended the ball back to him. "Please take it, with my compliments."

"Why, thank you," the Chief said, still amused at the trick. "Eh, the blood drains . . ." He continued doing the trick, just to see if it was as the young man said.

"Now, Inspector," Edward began, while the Chief chuckled at the trick, "if you don't mind, I've got to prepare for tonight's performance."

The Chief looked at him in awe. "Ah," he agreed, chuckling and still raising his fist to his head as he walked away. Edward looked after him in amusement, but not the same amusement the Chief had shown.

He rather wished the Chief hadn't told him that the Prince would be there - now he was nervous. . . .

* * *

**How was that? Next chapter - reunion!!!!!**

**Review!**


	4. Soul Reflections

**Author's Note: This chapter is sad and good at the same time - you'll understand why later, but I wanted to warn you. And I'm sorry it's so short, I'll update soon - if I get some reviews!! And, yes, this is still a flashback!!**

* * *

4. Soul Reflections

Edward could've kicked Leopold for not actually bothering to find out _who_ he'd sold his "three-quarter house" to. It looked packed to him. Not to mention the _Crown Prince_ was coming to watch. Edward sucked in a deep breath, waiting for the curtains to part while he waited backstage. Leopold was attempting to seem casual as he walked in front of him, but Edward knew he was peeking through the curtains to catch a glimpse of the Prince.

"Please stand for His Imperial Highness, Crown Prince Michael," came an announcer, and Leopold rushed to the curtains, eager to see. The crowd applauded as the Prince and his party sat in the best box in the theater - back wall, aloft and center. There was a single red velvet, gold-trimmed bench. No other seats were in this golden box. The Prince took the center of the bench, and to his right sat an old man who appeared to be some sort of advisor to the young man. On his left, a very beautiful young woman with brown hair and large, kind brown eyes sat down, looking - if nothing else - a little bored. They were all elegantly dressed, and the young woman's hair was done up in an intricately delicate and lovely design that looked as if it had taken hours to perfect. . . .

* * *

Edward's show was going well, up until the last illusion. As he made one of his assistants disappear under a blanket, the audience applauded and gasped, the escorted girl of the Prince one of the hardest to clap - she'd always loved magic tricks. The Prince saw her clapping, and joined reluctantly. He was looking quite bored and unimpressed with the night's show.

Edward strolled easily to the edge of the stage, having long since gained his control, and was quite comfortable on the stage. His assistant had left the stage, taking with him the chair and blanket they'd used for the trick.

"I thought we might end this evening with a discussion of the soul," he said, putting his hands in his pockets casually. "All of the greatest religions speak of the soul's endurance beyond the end of life. So, what then does it mean . . . to die? I need a volunteer from the audience. Someone not afraid of death," he added with a smirk. The audience laughed at the idea of the existence of such a person. "Please, someone?" Edward asked, looking around as no one volunteered. "I assure you, no tragedy will befall you."

Edward's emerald eyes widened and he completely lost his ease and comfort in front of the audience as he saw the Prince stand up at the bench. He almost let his jaw drop, but he remembered quickly where he was and who he was supposed to be there - Eisenheim the Illusionist, who didn't make such trivial mistakes. He shared a startled, amazed glance with Leopold, who was backstage, watching interestedly.

Then Edward smirked again, seeing the coward gesture to volunteer the young woman sitting next to him. Poor girl. Her mouth dropped open in shock, and her eyes - even from his distance, Edward could see - widened and flashed in anger. She hesitantly stood up and walked down to the stage, waving off her numerous bodyguards in the process. The closer she got to the stage, the more familiar she seemed to Edward. Had he met this woman somewhere before? Wasn't there something familiar in the way her eyes seemed angry and amused and kind all at once? And in the color of those eyes and her hair? And wasn't there something familiar about the way she carried herself, casual and self-assured, yet shy and trustful as a child, graceful as a willow? She was close enough to see him clearly, and Edward realized he was still staring at her. She hadn't noticed him staring yet, thank God, for he knew who she was.

_Bella._

Two assistants of his rolled out a large, full-length mirror onto the stage, and Bella climbed the stairs to the stage, smiling calmly but excitedly. _She always did love magic tricks_, Edward remembered ruefully.

"It's an honor, Duchess Swan," Leopold said as she climbed the stairs. Edward didn't need his help - he'd already known her. He almost wanted to run to her, hold her, just be with her again, as they used to. But he knew where he was, and he knew she was a lady and would never permit such talk in public, least of all on a stage.

Bella came closer to him, and he asked quietly, unable to resist, "Do you know me?"

Bella regarded him calmly for a short moment before saying in a remarkably clear, sweet voice, "No."

The small word cut Edward through like a knife, but he had doubted she would recognize him anyway. He raised his voice for the audience to hear this time. "You're quite certain that we've never met before?"

Bella seemed almost confused by the question - she must have assumed the audience had heard the first time. "Yes, of course," she answered in her bell-like voice.

Edward nodded once, looking down and trying to be brusque with her for the sake of the show, and an assistant came forward to place the red cloak on Bella. She complied easily, doing exactly what they wanted of her.

Once her cloak was on, Edward said loudly, so the audience could hear, "Now, please gaze directly into my eyes." He added softly, "Look nowhere else." He felt a bit silly asking her to do this, but he took comfort in the knowledge that she did not know him, and if she did, there was the show to put on and she wouldn't ruin it for him by laughing.

Bella did as she was asked, seeming a little confused. She thought there was something oddly familiar in their emerald-green depths . . .

Edward reached out and put a hand in front of her face, her still gazing obediently through his fingers to his eyes. However, as Edward slowly dropped his hand again, Bella's eyes were unable to stay open, and they closed slowly of their own accord.

Edward turned and guided her to the mirror with ineffable tenderness. She opened her eyes again and gazed at herself in the mirror while Edward took a step back so that he was behind her and pulled the hood of the red cloak over her head, covering most of her face in the reflection. By now, the audience had reached a low murmur of excitement, wondering what this new trick was. Bella and Edward were oblivious to them.

Edward forced himself to walk away from her, reluctantly taking his hand off her arm, struggling to seem a stranger to this young woman. Bella's eyes never left her reflection in the mirror. She seemed almost in a trance.

"Wave to yourself," Edward instructed her, but unintentionally, it sounded like a request more than a command. Bella complied, raising her arm slightly and then dropping it again. "Turn in a circle," Edward continued in that tone that infuriated him, making him sound like she could reject if she wanted. Apparently, she did not want. She turned obediently in a circle until she was facing the mirror again, her back to the audience. Edward smirked. "Now bow to yourself," he instructed.

Bella bowed, but the reflection of herself in the mirror stood erect, crossing her arms defiantly across her chest. The audience laughed as the real Bella jerked back up right, gasping, and stared in fascination as in the mirror, yet another reflection of herself walked into the mirror, carrying a gold- and jewel-encrusted sword. The real Bella whirled around to see if there was such a cloaked, hooded figure behind her and was shocked to see there wasn't. She turned quickly back to face the mirror just in time to see the second reflection cut her first one dead to the ground. Bella accidentally screamed, but she wasn't the only one - dozens of women in the audience also made the sound of horror. The second reflection walked away again, and Edward raised his hand to the reflection-body on the ground of the mirror. As he raised his hand higher, a ball of smoke rose with it, literally rising out of the girl's body and out of the mirror. Edward turned his hand so that the palm was facing upward and said, "Away."

The spirit started to fly away as commanded, but turned and flew rapidly at the real Bella instead, directly into her face. Bella fainted, and Edward caught her as she fell, noting with grim satisfaction that the Prince looked jealous that he was holding her - and then a little confused that he wasn't worried for Bella at all. He either trusted Edward completely, or he believed all this was a hoax.

Bella woke up again after a few short moments, and Edward immediately straightened her up and released her, raising his eyebrows to ask silently if she was all right. She nodded, putting a shaking hand to her forehead, looking confused. That was Bella for you, Edward thought ruefully, you scare her nearly to death and she only looks confused at the trick, wanting to know how I did. Just like back then . . . Edward lightly shook his head to dispel those thoughts and gently turned Bella around to remove the cloak. As she walked offstage, still feeling dizzy and confused, Edward gestured to her that the audience should applaud. They did so loudly, and then applauded for himself. Edward tried to pay attention to them and thank them properly for their level of adoration, but his eyes never left Bella's retreating back as she made her way back to the Prince. He wondered vaguely what their connection was.

She did not turn back.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Edward walked quickly to the meeting room just off the main foyer of the stage. The Crown Prince and his troupe expected an audience with him, and he'd been delayed, attending to some of his assistants.

Leopold met him at the door. Bella was conversing with another woman, both of them seated on a small sofa against the wall, and Bella turned curiously when her companion's expression turned to a look of awe and wonder.

Her eyes met Edward's and her confusion returned. _Why_ did this Eisenheim look so familiar to her??

Edward found it difficult to remove his eyes from hers, and she seemed to be caught in them. Leopold regained his attention by speaking. "They must have liked you. They waited for you nearly five minutes."

Edward nodded, glancing back at Bella to see she was now looking at the floor. Leopold turned to the Prince, and Edward turned as well, straightening up and putting his hands behind his back in a respectful manner.

"Your Highness," Leopold said, "may I introduce Eisenheim the Illusionist?"

The entire small assembly in the room turned and applauded as one for Edward, but it was a light, polite applause on the Prince's part, who only clapped about twice because he had to put his cigarette in his mouth and hold his liqueur in the one hand.

The Prince appraised Edward before cockily raising an eyebrow and extending a hand for Edward to shake. "Well done," he complimented, and even then he sounded condescending.

"Thank you for coming," Edward said politely. He'd always been a good liar - none of his thoughts were echoed in his voice, there was only polite gratefulness. "I hope you enjoyed it."

"Oh, we more than enjoyed it," the Prince said amusedly. "Stimulated great debate amongst us, hasn't it?" he turned arrogantly to the others, who hastened to agree. Bella slowly got off the coach at his glance and walked to his side. The Prince smirked at her before turning around and said with an annoying conspiratorial air to Edward, as though Bella weren't a human with ears and couldn't hear him, "Except, of course, for your assistant, Duchess Swan. You seem to have struck her quite speechless." The smirk broadened and Edward wanted to punch it off his face. "A feat in itself," the Prince went on. "Did you hypnotize her?"

Edward forced himself to look away from Bella again and smile at the Prince - the last thing on earth he wanted to do at this point. "In a fashion," he responded.

"I'd like to learn that trick," the Prince said, grinning cockily, while the men in the room laughed. All the ladies glanced sympathetically at Bella and then down to the floor, which Bella had already appeared fixated on. "Rainier here thinks you have supernatural powers," the Prince went on. "Do you claim supernatural powers?"

Edward shook his head, looking down, trying to hide his annoyance. He'd always despised that conclusion. "I've never said anything of that kind," he said, forcing himself to still sound polite as he looked back up at the Prince.

"Then you won't mind a question or two," the Prince prodded. Bella glanced up at Edward's discomfort quickly, and then to the Prince.

"Now, let's not ruin it," she admonished quietly, smiling slightly. The Prince glanced at her briefly before turning back to Edward, though still addressing her.

"He needn't divulge anything I can't guess."

Edward, backed into a corner, nodded again. "As you wish."

The Prince answered arrogantly, "Your assistants are behind the mirror somewhere, in robes, obviously. Lights in the frame, perhaps, to illuminate them, or angled mirrors?"

The others murmured amongst themselves, impressed he'd come to the conclusion so fast. Edward bit back a smile: he hadn't gotten it right. "That would be one way to do it," he answered as vaguely as any performer dancing around his secret.

The Prince nodded, so conceited that he assumed the vagueness was actually demurring from the painful acceptance of failure. Edward resisted once again the urge to hurt him. "I think I understand it all except the ghost," the other man said, his blue eyes flashing downward, as though admitting a weakness. Then he looked back up at Edward, smiling in a condescendingly pleased way. Like an adult would be pleased at a child's crude painting. "That was very, very good."

The compliment did nothing to soothe Edward's raw nerves, said in that superior tone. Leopold moved forward, eager to take any opportunity. "Another viewing, perhaps?" he suggested humbly. Edward shot him a quick glare before anyone but him had seen. Too late, Edward realized one other person had seen - Bella, but it only made her more confused.

The Prince raised his head as cocky as if he had thought of the idea, but otherwise made no motion that he had even heard Leopold. "You must come to the Hofburg next time," he said. "We'll make an evening of it."

Edward glanced at Bella before saying to the Prince, "That will be my pleasure."

Bella looked down again, as the Prince held out an arm to her. "So be it," he said to Edward before calling to Bella like a pet, "Bella?"

Edward eyed the Prince for another long moment. If he had merely escorted Bella to this performance, and wasn't familiar with her, he would not have known to call her "Bella." All people not familiar with her called her "Isabella," or "Duchess Swan." She'd hated it when they were younger, wishing everyone would just see her as a girl, with feelings, instead of "a pretty porcelain doll in the room, to be appreciated in its beauty, but not in its life," as she'd once put it herself.

The Prince gestured for Edward to move out of their way as Bella took his arm, seeming reluctant to leave.

As they were walking out of the room again, the Crown Prince turned again, dragging Bella along with him. Her face remained expressionless.

"And we'll gather our best minds next time," the Prince mock-warned in amusement, as though he didn't actually believe Edward's performance would be worth it. "You'll really have a challenge then."

Right then, Edward decided what he would do. "Then I'll prepare something special," he said, still in his polite tone. Then he looked pointedly at Bella. "Perhaps I'll make you disappear," he murmured.

The Prince nodded, seeming to find this normal for a magician's talk, and began to walk out of the room, dragging Bella with him. But not before Edward saw her mouth drop open and her huge brown eyes widen in shock and realization.

She'd recognized him at last.

* * *

**Aww. That wasn't so bad, was it?**

**Review, and I'll update within two days!!**


	5. Wishful Thinking

**Author's Note: Sorry, guys, I just realized I forgot to say in the beginning - there _is_**** a character death towards the end. It's sad, I warn you now, but I won't tell you who it is. If you've already seen the movie, then you know. **

**As said before, this is a FLASHBACK.**

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5. Wishful Thinking

Later that evening, Edward and Leopold decided it was too fine a night to take a carriage to their homes, and so they were walking part of the way. As they strolled down the sidewalk, passing many other men outside in the same formal dress as they - but never girls, of course, it was improper for an unmarried woman to go out after dark - talking of Edward's performance and the prince's unintended benefits to that show.

"My God," Leopold said, looking at the sky. "When he volunteered her, I heard the crashing sound of money falling on me in piles." Edward laughed ruefully, remembering his friend and manager's love of money. "You know that the Duchess Swan starts every new trend - she's the height of fashion. Every lady of means in Vienna will want to get up there with you now."

"Mm," Edward murmured in assent. He'd seen many of the ladies' faces when Bella was forced to go on stage - they'd immediately wanted to do the same thing.

"What a show-off," Leopold muttered. Edward wasn't sure if he meant the prince, or Bella. He decided on the prince, especially when Leopold added, "His father would have died if he'd seen such a display."

"She didn't seem too happy about it, either," Edward said noncommittally.

"Well, she'd better get used to it," Leopold said, completely unconcerned.

"How's that?" Edward asked, confused.

"Word is she'll marry him soon," Leopold informed him.

For some reason, Edward's body suddenly was not under his own control anymore and he stumbled in his walk. As he steadied himself, he tried to steady his voice. "Really?" he asked, trying to seem as unconcerned as Leopold.

"Taking her chances, if you ask me," Leopold said grimly. He loved spreading gossip as much as an old woman, but for once, just this time, Edward was grateful for it.

"Why?" Edward asked quietly, bowing his head as he looked down. He still hadn't quite gotten his emotions out of his voice yet, but luckily Leopold hadn't noticed.

"He likes to give his lady friends a good thrashing now and again." Leopold's voice was disgusted now, because even though he wasn't the best of men, he was not one that advocated the abuse of women. Edward stopped walking suddenly and turned quickly to look at Leopold, praying that wasn't what was wrong with Bella. It would explain her meekness, though, and the way she reacted to his glances . . . "People say he pushed one of them off a balcony just to cover the beating he'd given her," Leopold went on wretchedly.

Edward closed his eyes tightly, bowing his head and shaking it as if to dispel horrid images in his head of beautiful, kind, gentle Bella being abused by that abomination of nature itself.

* * *

Back at his house that evening, Edward tried to work on more tricks and applications for his show, but his mind kept wandering back to Bella. Eventually he threw down his supplies and went upstairs to try to get some sleep . . . unsuccessfully.

* * *

Early the next morning, Edward and Leopold were discussing when best to schedule Edward's next performance in the many side-rooms of the theater. A messenger boy walked in carrying a letter from Hofburg, the Prince's palace itself, addressed to Edward.

Edward opened it eagerly, hoping it was from Bella. She did not disappoint him. The letter asked him if he would meet her for a very inconvenient carriage ride that afternoon, swapping carriages halfway through, for a talk. Edward wondered why they wouldn't talk outside of a carriage. He knew she was too kind to be embarrassed to meet someone so low-born, but that was the only explanation he could think of, and it bothered him greatly - to say the least.

As expected, Edward agreed to meet her, and an empty, expensive carriage pulled up outside the theater at midday, and he got into it. They rode down a few streets until they reached another parked carriage. Edward quickly opened the door of his, and the other, and stepped into the other, closing both doors behind him. He was so quick no one outside should have noticed.

He sat down in a seat opposite the beautiful young woman who'd haunted his every thought, waking and sleeping, since their reunion. Once he was seated, she half-turned and rapped on the glass window that separated their box from the driver's seat, telling him to drive.

Edward half-smiled. "Hello, Bella."

She smiled at him. "When I was on the stage," she said in a confused tone, which in turn confused Edward, "you knew me right away."

Edward nodded, looking out the window, suddenly feeling as embarrassed and awkward as his old teenage self again around her. She seemed to have lost that since his long absence. "It took me a moment," he admitted, "but, yes, I knew."

Bella shook her head, almost angrily. "You could have said something," she said in a disgusted tone, and Edward knew it was directed internally.

"I thought you'd figure it out eventually," Edward said, looking down.

"Yes, I would have." Bella laughed, and Edward's eyes darted to her face again. Her laugh was even lovelier than her face, sweet and clear as musical bells. "I would have come another night, _volunteered_, walked right on stage and said, 'Hello,' and then you'd really have had to move quickly."

Edward chuckled, looking down again, before raising his eyes once more. "I suspect you would have," he said seriously, but still half-smiling.

Bella went to smile back, but her face became confused again. "I don't understand why," she whispered.

Edward lost his smile and glared out the window. "Perhaps for the same reasons you find it prudent to meet in a carriage," he said bitterly.

Bella looked taken aback at his tone. She shook her head, entreating him with her eyes, but making no move to him as she would have when they were younger. "It's just a game I have to play with them," she assured him. "I'm followed everywhere. It's - It's supposed to be for my protection."

Edward knew from her tone that she didn't believe that. The Prince was having her watched for very different reasons, and they both knew it.

He nodded, accepting that, but still very bitter - now for other reasons. "Yes," he said in that same bitter tone, slowly. He took a deep breath and looked back to her. "So, I hear congratulations are in order."

Bella looked confused. "What for?"

_Is she being intentionally stupid, or deceitful?_ Edward wondered before answering, managing to keep his anger and jealousy out of his voice. "They say you'll be the princess."

Bella suddenly looks furious. "That's not decided at all," she fumed.

"Ah," Edward said, trying to be politely disinterested while his heart was suddenly dancing.

Bella's fury dissolved as quickly as it had come. She seemed to be talking to herself now more than him. "It makes a certain sense, I suppose. We've known each other for years, and, of course, our families." She glanced at Edward, quick to defend her musing when she saw his expression. "He's very intelligent." Edward nodded quickly, raising his eyebrows in an innocent manner as if to say, _I never said he wasn't._

Bella's voice took on that musing quality again. "A little _too_ intelligent for his own good," she went on. Edward snuck a glance at her face to see she was staring at the ground. She smiled ruefully while he watched, and she glanced back up to meet his eyes. "You're lucky, you know," she murmured, "to have broken free as you did. I often wish that I had -" She broke off, immediately afraid she'd said to much, and looked down again.

Edward leaned forward, willing her to go on. "Wished what?" he asked breathlessly.

She seemed to make up her mind about something, and smiled and looked back up at him, all pleasantness and normal again - but Edward could see it was nothing but a show. "Wished that I would see you again," she said, smiling, and shrugged. Edward knew that was not what she was going to say, but he leaned back, letting it go for now.

"And now you have," he said, smiling at her crookedly.

She took a deep breath, smiled and said, "Yes, now I have."

A few moments later, Edward's carriage returned to them, and his voice turned aloof. "I look forward to seeing you again at the Hofburg," he said cordially, before getting out.

"Until then," Bella agreed hurriedly, eager for him to be gone - she was painfully aware that her eyes were filling with tears and she did not want him to see that. Luckily, Edward hadn't noticed.

Without him there, Bella slumped back in her seat, and put a hand to the chain around her neck. When she pulled it out of her dress, it revealed the locket Edward had made for all those years ago. She seemed to have taken it out and toyed with it unconsciously.

* * *

A few hours later, Chief Inspector Uhl's assistant walked into the Chief's office, carrying a folder. "Here's the report on Duchess Swan," he said, dropping the folder on the inspector's desk.

"Mm," the Chief murmured, not looking up from his other work. "Anything interesting?"

"See for yourself," his assistant said grimly.

The Chief opened it and glanced at it briefly, before doing a double take and gazing at it. "The magician?" he asked in amazement.

The assistant nodded. "They drove around for half an hour. Then he got out near the theater. What do you want us to do?"

The Chief dropped the folder back onto his desk, tapping his fingers on the wood, debating how to handle this. Should he tell the Prince, confront the Duchess, confront the Illusionist . . . ? Out of those three, the Illusionist certainly seemed the easiest to deal with.

* * *

The next morning, Edward walked briskly to the theater as usual. He barely noted that another man was walking alongside him, on the street, until he noticed that another came from behind a corner and walked with them two. He stopped and half-scoffed, half-laughed, knowing who they worked for. The others stopped with him.

"Join us for a drink?" one asked.

Knowing he had no choice, Edward nodded and followed them. When he entered the private room in the restaurant, he saw the Chief of Police seriously chowing down on a ton of food.

The inspector pointed to the chair opposite him while the other two men disappeared obsequiously out the door. "Please."

Edward walked in and, without removing his coat, sat down across from the inspector. The inspector gestured around him at the multitudes of food. "Would you like something to eat, something to drink, hmm?"

Edward didn't move except to say, "No, thank you," continuing to stare at the inspector. He wanted him to come right to the point, and the Chief seemed to realize this.

"Herr Eisenheim," the inspector said, and Edward noted with satisfaction that at least he didn't know his real name, "I'm going to ask you a question . . . that may not seem friendly, but I assure you, in fact, is." He cleared his throat as Edward fidgeted impatiently. The Chief looked at him gravely. "What is your relationship with the Duchess Swan?" he asked, no emotion in his voice.

Edward laughed. "You're right, that doesn't seem friendly."

"Oh, but that is precisely my point," the Chief assured him. "For, you see, where others might judge . . . a discreet carriage ride for what it seemed to be . . . I am willing to find out what it actually was."

Edward stared at him for a long moment, then decided on partial truth. "All right. We were childhood acquaintances."

"Acquaintances?" the Chief asked skeptically.

"Childhood friends," Edward corrected himself, smiling slightly. "My father was a cabinetmaker. He made the furniture for her family's house."

They both laughed. Edward, because talking of his background made his see how nearly impossible it was that Bella could ever love someone such as him. The Chief, because he knew there was a lie behind this.

"I see," the Chief finished, somewhat skeptically, "the cabinetmaker's son friends with a -"

"Has there been a complaint?" Edward interrupted impatiently, just wanting to get to the end of this exchange.

"Oh, no, no," the Chief assured him, chuckling a little at the thought. "If there'd been a complaint . . ." He wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin, "well, we'd be having a very, uh, different sort of conversation."

Edward nodded. "Ah, yes. He relies on you for that sort of thing, does he?" he asked, his voice not concealing his anger as he referred to the Prince and his crimes.

The Chief shook his head, sighing. "I'm a simple public servant, Herr Eisenheim."

"That's not what I hear," Edward insisted, leaning forward and smiling slightly. "I hear you'll be chief of police very soon. Maybe mayor of Vienna? Party secretary?"

"All subject to his whim," the Chief reminded him, looking at the table.

"You better hope he doesn't dissolve the parliament before you get there," Edward went on easily, chuckling.

"Now, the prince has some progressive ideas, but he will make a fine emperor," the Chief said seriously.

"Well, they say you're very close to him, so I'm sure you'll do fine," Edward said, looking away.

"All right. Look," the Chief said, throwing his napkin on his table. Edward grinned as he leaned back lazily. "Yes, indeed, they say that I am very close to the prince. But the simple truth of the matter is, Herr Eisenheim, I'm the son of a butcher. He's the heir to the empire. How close could we be to such as him? Hmm? Do you see my point?" Edward didn't meet his eyes, and the Chief leaned forward very grimly. "Don't fool yourself that you can play their game," he warned.

Edward was suddenly reminded of Bella, the afternoon before saying, _It's just a game I have to play with them . . ._ She was obviously accustomed to it, and it was obviously hard, but could she choose to bow out, if she wished? Probably not.

The inspector's voice brought him out of his circular thinking. "I've served on the edge of it for . . . many, many years," he said, "and I can tell you with certainty, there's no trick they haven't seen." He met Edward's eyes then. "It's not worth it," he said, more grimly than ever, and suddenly Edward was more uncomfortable than he'd ever been in his life.

_Does this man know about my feelings for Bella? Does he know something I don't? What is he trying to tell me? _

* * *

**Well, how was that? Review, please!!! It's no fun writing a story no one comments on!**


	6. Passion Consummated

**Author's Note: I considered making (for those of you who know the movie) this chapter a lemon, but I didn't want to screw up Stephenie's story by turning it into some porn story. So it'll be . . . smut, I guess, as my mom calls it. Haha, I'll just, er, ****_skim_ over that part. But you'll definitely know what's going on. Sorry if I disappointed any of you with no lemons. **

**YES, this is STILL a flashback. **

* * *

6. Passion Consummated

That night at the Hofburg, the Prince himself introduced Edward, Leopold not having merited an invitation.

The smallest of the three ballrooms in the palace had been turned into a theater, with many seats in rows on the floor and a makeshift stage at the front of them. Edward and the Prince stood on that stage. The Prince wore the formal suit of an aristocrat, complete with a sword at his hip.

Edward had long since been aware of Bella sitting in the front row, next to the Prince's empty seat. She wore an elegant, extremely expensive - and tightly fitting - evening gown, and many diamonds, and was fanning herself along with all the other women. On the other side of the Prince's seat, was nothing but a table for his liqueur.

The lights were turned down a bit for dramatic effect.

"My guest tonight," the Prince began pleasantly (for he seemed to be in a good mood this night), "is not a showman at all, but rather a wizard . . . a wizard who has sold his soul to the devil in return for unholy powers." The Prince chuckled. "Or so at least some of our friends here would have us believe." The small audience laughed. "But fear not. Everything can and will be explained. All mysteries penetrated."

"Hear! Hear!" a man shouted in the audience as they applauded.

"Well said! Well said!" another agreed.

The Prince took his seat next to Bella, murmuring something to her and she laughed as he took his glass of liqueur from his tray and waited expectantly for Edward to begin.

Edward's assistants put out a canvas, and Edward walked over to it, pretend-painting with his hand. Suddenly, paint actually appeared on the paper where his hand left it, as though he really were painting without any paint or brushes. The audience gasped delightedly.

It finally took the form of the emperor, Prince Michael's father, and the audience gasped again. One man asked, "Is that the emperor?"

Another chuckled to the Prince, "Ah, yes, your father. I didn't think he was invited."

The audience laughed. The Prince rose from his seat and walked up to Edward and his portrait. "A fair likeness of the old man. Too modern a style for him, of course," he said cheerfully as the audience laughed again.

"I'm afraid I'm not much of a painter," Edward said to the audience.

"It's true," the Prince agreed. "There are no brushstrokes in this painting. I can see that clearly. So to achieve the color, some sort of chemical must be interacting presumably." The audience "oh!"ed in appreciation of his intellect. Edward looked down, hiding his annoyance at the pointless interruption. He hadn't even guessed it. "Some sort of sprayer up your sleeve?" the Prince asked him. "May I?"

Edward nodded once, curtly. "If you feel you must." He extended his arms, and the Prince felt along his coat sleeves, looking for a hidden sprayer that was not there.

"Oh, let the man do his show," Bella said, mock-annoyed, from the audience. Both Edward and Michael turned to look at her.

The Prince laughed. "You want me to just sit there when it's so obvious?" The audience laughed at their bantering.

"I do," Bella said in a purposefully lofty and arrogant voice, like a queen bestowing a wish on her humblest servant. The audience laughed again.

The Prince gestured to Edward. "He tries to trick you, I try to enlighten you," he said to the audience, but he was still looking at her. "Which is the more noble pursuit?"

Edward looked to the servants in the back. "May we have lights, please?" he asked in his velvety, musical voice. "So His Highness can better see."

The audience murmured in protest. "See here, Michael, let's have the show!" one man said.

"Hear! Hear!" another agreed.

"Come on, Michael."

"Do get on with it."

The protests were getting more and more frequent, and louder. The Prince turned from the painting to face them. "Very well," he said before turning back to Edward. "I propose a challenge. Why don't you astonish us - if you can - without all the . . . gadgetry?"

Edward looked down for a moment, then his emerald eyes flashed back to the Prince's. "As you wish," he agreed. The Prince started to walk back to Bella. Edward's voice stopped him. "Your sword is very beautiful," he said. "Might I see it?"

"Certainly." The Prince turned around, suddenly distrustful of the magician, and took his sword from its sheath halfway, holding it in his hands, but in plain view for Edward to see. It was the same gold- and jewel-encrusted sword that he and Bella, and the rest of the audience gathered that night, had seen when Bella gazed into the mirror. The one that killed her. _Nonsense_, Edward assured himself. _That was just another illusion. _He turned to the Prince.

"May I?" Edward asked, opening his hands.

The Prince dropped the sword into them, and walked back to Bella again. Edward turned to the audience. "Where does power flow from?" he asked them. "Skill or destiny, or divine right?" The Prince stopped in his migration, and slowly turned to eye the other young man suspiciously. Edward took no notice. He pointed the sword vertically, as though he were going to stab the ground with it. "We all know the story of the sword called Excalibur. Excalibur's blade was fixed in stone . . ." Edward placed the sword on its tip on the ground, " . . . and there it stayed," he said, removing his hands from the sword. The audience gasped when the sword stayed perfectly straight.

"Many worthy knights tried to pull the sword from the stone," Edward went on. "Only Arthur succeeded . . . proving his right to rule. Who can take this sword?" He turned to a man in the front row. "You, sir, can you take the sword?"

The man got up and took the hilt of the sword in his hand. He pulled, but the sword wouldn't budge. He grabbed it with both hands, and pulled with all his might. Still, the sword stayed in place. The audience gasped again, then laughed as the man gave up and went back to his seat. He bowed to the Prince on his way past. "No surprise there," the Prince said. The audience laughed again.

Another young man jumped to the stage, wanting to test the sword and his right to rule. It was the young Prince's cousin and heir.

"Not so eager, cousin," the Prince warned as the audience laughed. The cousin tried to take the sword as well, but it stayed firmly in place.

Edward turned back to the Prince as the audience applauded. "Thank you for your indulgence."

The Prince nodded and went to retrieve the sword.

It wouldn't move.

The Prince glared up at Edward, who merely raised his eyebrows at him. The Prince tried again. It still didn't budge. The audience laughed, thinking it merely a joke.

"Come now. If you can't pull it out, you'll never be emperor," one man laughed.

"Your father will live to be a hundred," another joked. The audience laughed again as the Prince glared at Edward.

Edward nodded, glancing down at the sword as if to say, _All right. I'm done, _and looked at the audience again. The Prince tried again. It still didn't move. Edward turned back to the sword, and his hand twitched as if to raise, but he stopped it - and the sword broke free. The audience applauded as the Prince sheathed it again, but all the while he glared at Edward murderously, knowing the magician had had to _let_ him have it back. It clearly signified his opinion on the Prince's right to rule.

Edward glanced at Bella and she seemed to realize this, too. The only other one besides to the two men. She looked very angry, and wouldn't look away from the Prince. Then Edward gestured to him. "The sword to its rightful owner!"

There was applause again. The Prince addressed the audience. "That's enough light entertainment for this evening. For more serious discussion, please join me for a drink."

The audience applauded as Edward bowed and left the stage, as did the Prince. Edward walked to the bottom of the stairs, as the others followed the Prince. Bella clapped with them only a few times, still looking quite upset.

The Prince stormed furiously out of the room, past the Chief, who had seen everything. The Chief matched his stride with a little difficulty. "Shut him down," the Prince ordered through gritted teeth.

"Well, he's very popular, Your Highness," the Chief stalled.

"I'm sure you'll find a way," the Prince said without looking at him, continuing to walk. The Chief stopped and looked back to the Illusionist, who he saw was staring at the Duchess Swan, as she watched after the Prince.

Finally, Bella got up as well. As she passed Edward, she paused and asked him furiously, "What did you do to him?"

"I gave him what he asked for," Edward said in an innocent voice that only infuriated Bella more.

"And what would possess you to do something so foolish?" she demanded.

Edward couldn't answer because a group of her rich friends suddenly surrounded her, whisking her away after the Prince.

"Duchess Swan, you must come along, my dear," one said. "You don't want to keep the Prince waiting."

Bella glanced at Edward once more before walking off with them. Edward could hear a part of their conversation before they were gone.

"Did you enjoy the show?" the same woman asked.

"It was wonderful, wasn't it?" Bella asked in return, sounding as though she were smiling. Edward was almost confused. How could she alter her mood that quickly? Not moments ago, she was so angry she might've seriously done some damage - now she was laughing with some old friends like this was all some joke?

"It was amusing," another agreed.

They continued on their walk until Edward could no longer see or hear them. He turned and reluctantly walked away.

* * *

Later that night at his house, Edward was working at his secluded house in the woods. It wasn't much of a house: two bedrooms, one bathroom, two stories, a barn, a small stable, and an even smaller yard fenced in.

He was trying to put together a new mechanic for a new trick, but with his mind unable to really focus on anything but Bella, he accidentally broke the fragile thing. Frustrated, Edward threw the thing on the table and straightened up abruptly, hearing a horse approaching rapidly in the distance.

Grabbing a hammer in case his visitor was unwelcome, Edward walked outside cautiously.

The elegant white horse rode to a halt right outside his gate, where he stood waiting for it. Shocked, he recognized Bella as the rider. Her hair was in an appealing disarray after her break-neck speed, and she was finally wearing something semi-normal - as normal as a duchess could dress. Her clothing was still far more elegant than anyone Edward was acquainted with could afford, but to her it was plain: a riding outfit.

"Who told you where to find me?" Edward asked, partly because he was angry he'd been ratted out, and partly to distract himself. As a result his voice came off cold.

Bella scowled. "Your manager."

She heaved herself off the horse, and threw her reins over the horse's head to guide it.

"I told him if he wants to stay in Vienna, you need my help," she informed him, leading the horse to Edward's water trough as though he had welcomed her in. Far from it.

Edward whirled around and stormed for his door. "Ah, so I'm to be driven from the city, is that it?" he asked over his shoulder, slightly turning. "Good. I shall relish it."

"Stop it!" Bella said harshly, but with a hint of pain in her voice. She didn't like hearing this derision in his own.

Edward turned slowly to face her calmly.

"I came here to try to help you," Bella explained.

"Why?" Edward demanded furiously, his jealously spilling out of him uncontrollably. "Why should you possibly care what happens to me now?"

"You were my friend," Bella insisted. "I _am_ your friend."

Edward looked at the ground. Then he glared up at her coldly. "We knew each other very briefly a long time ago. You don't know me at all."

Bella stood, stunned. Then she returned his glare fiercely. "Then why did you speak to me?" she said, very nearly shouting. "Why did you even bother talking - ?"

He spun and was across the short space between them in what seemed to Bella like no time at all. She barely had time to register the pained expression on his face before his lips were crushing against hers and his arms were locked around her like steel girders. She accepted him without thought or complaint.

Without breaking the kiss, Edward guided her into the house, kicking open the door in the process and kicking it shut behind them. He did break it then, staring into her face for a few moments. Then he gently pushed her against the wall, stroking her face. Bella glanced down from his hypnotic emerald eyes and began unbuttoning his shirt as fast as possible. Edward, in turn, began unbuttoning her own.

These dream-like movements, however, were put to an abrupt halt when Edward saw his locket around her neck, glistening against her pale skin and dangling above her corset. He stopped and looked up at her in amazement. Then he kissed her with renewed vigor, and they collapsed on the bed, their hands going everywhere while they kissed passionately.

It was pleasure such as they both had never known. It was as if they were destined to do this, to be with each other - tailor-made to be the others' lover. And as if they were of one mind, they both vaguely wondered how in the _world_ this experience eluded them for so long.

* * *

Edward picked up Bella's locket - currently the only thing she was still wearing under the blanket - and looked at it, before gazing back at her. He dropped it from his hand, letting it fall back against her. "And you kept it all this time," he said simply, at a loss for how to express his feelings on that particular subject.

Bella picked up the locket and looked at it herself. "I used to sit and stare at your picture," she whispered, smiling slightly as she stared at the beautiful wooden necklace, "trying to imagine where you were."

Her pained expression hurt Edward too, as though they were connected on their feelings, and he stoked soothing circles on her back, his arm already conveniently around her, as she continued whispering.

"At night I'd had dreams I had gone with you," she went on slowly, "and then I'd wake up and realize where I was."

She snuggled herself closer into his side, laying on his chest, and sighed as Edward played with her hair. "Where did you go when you left?" she asked.

Edward said calmly, "To my uncle's farm near Prague."

Bella smiled. "How exotic."

Edward laughed quietly, then decided to be honest. "I went to Russia, then Asia Minor, and then the Orient for many months."

"So long," Bella whispered sadly, remembering how it felt to get up each day for the last four years knowing to expect nothing because she would get nothing - except that which she didn't want.

Edward moved, still half underneath her as she laid across his chest, so that she could better see his face. She looked up at him as he continued fiddling with her hair. "I always meant to return," he said in an almost puzzled voice. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't quite understand why he never came back sooner. Then he answered himself out loud, "I just . . . I kept thinking I'd find it around the next corner."

Bella, who had gone back to lying comfortably on his chest with her eyes closed, slowly opened them. "What?" she asked.

Edward shook his head. "A real mystery," he said plainly.

Bella got up, propping herself on her elbows, holding the blanket tighter to herself. She wanted to see his face as he said this. She was confused.

"I saw remarkable things," Edward told her, staring down before glancing up at her, "but the only mystery I never solved was why my heart couldn't let go of you."

He raised his hand, entwined with hers, and kissed her hand. Then he got up, wrapping another blanket around himself, and went to sit by the fire.

As he stoked the fire, an unseen tear fell down Bella's face.

"He wants me to go to Budapest with him next week," she said suddenly, "to announce our engagement."

Edward's head whipped around to stare at her without him commanding it to do so. She looked down.

"He wants the Hungarians behind him," she explained. "They're going to crown him king."

"I'm sure his father will have something to say about that," said Edward sarcastically, trying to alleviate the suddenly tense atmosphere. It didn't work.

She looked down, the pained expression coming back to her face. "He plans to overthrow his father," she murmured.

Edward's eyes widened at this new information, and the shock and danger it presented. "That could go very badly for him," he said urgently, "and for you. You shouldn't be involved."

Bella sighed, gesturing impatiently. "I am part of his plan," she explained disgustedly. "He only gets Hungary by aligning himself with my family."

"Leave him," Edward practically begged, suddenly realizing that he wasn't asking merely for her safety - but because he wanted her to.

She shook her head, another tear escaping her eyes. "It's not that easy," she whispered, her voice cracking.

"Call it off and come away with me," Edward pressed. Bella didn't say anything and didn't meet his eyes. "Or don't say anything and we'll just go."

Bella shook her head again, inhaling shakily. "As long as we're alive," she murmured in a frightened voice, "he'll hunt us." Her voice hardened. "And when he finds us, he'll kill us."

Edward went to answer but didn't, realizing that she was right. He dropped his gaze to the ground, getting an idea. It would be difficult - extremely so - there was no denying that. And he would need some help, and some money. Both of which were easily accessible to him now. The only problem was if Bella was cooperative or not. He knew how hard her part in this would be, and he knew there was a distinct possibility she might not care enough about him to go along with it.

Looking up to gauge her reaction, he saw she was staring at the wall. "Look at me," he said. She looked over at him, tears still falling from her eyes. "Do you truly want to leave with me?" he asked slowly - painfully - dying a little bit as he waited for her answer.

Her pained expression left her face in favor of a determined one, a sure and confident one. She sat up a little straighter in the bed, holding the blanket around herself.

"Yes, I do," she answered calmly.

Edward nodded, looking down again. And so the real work began. . . .

* * *

**So how was that? Review, please!!**


	7. Bella's Defiance

**Author's Note: This is a kind of sad chapter. Remember, still a FLASHBACK.**

* * *

7. Bella's Defiance

That night, Edward and Bella discussed and refined Edward's plan. It was pure genius, and Bella knew that no one would suspect anything. But Edward wasn't satisfied with that. He wanted at least one person to know of his greatest trick, and so he and she took his plans and made them even greater together.

The next morning, Bella returned to the Hofburg, but agreed to meet Edward that afternoon in the square near his theater. As Edward walked past his theater, towards the back entrance he preferred, he noticed his advertisements shredded to pieces and littering the ground around the theater.

As he walked into the backstage room, he noticed many men busy packing up all of his supplies, and Leopold moving swiftly through the room, packing the more important things personally. When Leopold noticed Edward's entrance, he whirled around and said angrily, never stopping packing, "There you are. As I predicted, they've shut us down. Are you happy now, hmm? You made your point. It doesn't matter that we were sold out for the whole run!" Edward looked down, though he didn't feel in the slightest ashamed - it just seemed the appropriate thing to do. "No, look," his friend and manager continued, finally stopping and glaring at Edward. "You got it off your chest."

Leopold went to turn back to his packing. Edward disregarded what he'd said and stopped him by asking, "Do we have money?"

"What?" Leopold asked, completely thrown by the new change of topic.

"Do we have any money saved?" Edward repeated.

"Yes, we have some," Leopold said, dissatisfied. "But we could have had much, much more."

Edward looked down again, though not in pretend-shame this time. He was wondering if the fortune he'd been building up would be enough to pull off his latest stunt. "Mmm, it will have to do," he answered himself out loud.

* * *

That afternoon, just before meeting Bella, Edward stopped by the bank. He emptied his own account, but then realized it wasn't enough. _Sorry, Leopold_, he thought.

"And the second account," he told the banker, "all of it."

"Of course, Herr Eisenheim," the humble man assured before stumbling away. When he returned with the money, Edward put it into a messenger bag that could have easily passed for a leather briefcase.

"Thank you," he said before picking up his hat and walking away.

Back in his house, he put the bag of money, some clothes for himself, and a small gold bottle wrapped in a linen handkerchief into a small suitcase. Then he took the suitcase and hurried to meet Bella at the arranged place just outside his theater.

She was waiting in her expensive carriage when he got there, looking troubled, but Edward didn't pursue the matter. They had acts to follow here and he couldn't waste time.

As he approached her carriage, she opened the door, without showing any of herself to Chief Inspector Charles Uhl's assistant neither of them knew were watching from behind pillars around the square.

Edward neatly reached into her carriage and set down the suitcase, then turned and began to walk away. As he did so, Bella reached out and caught him, this time exposing herself completely, and kissed him fully on the lips. Edward kissed back.

* * *

The assistant went rigid with this new information. Imagine the Duchess Swan cheating on the Prince before they were even married!

Without needing any more information than this, he turned and walked away, leaving them behind him to carry out what they may. He practically ran until he reached headquarters again, just catching the Chief on his way out to give the surveillance report on the Duchess to the Prince. Perfect.

"And you have no doubt it was Duchess Swan?" asked the Chief when his underling had finished explaining.

"I'd stake my life on it," he replied solemnly.

The Chief gestured helplessly and impatiently. "And what was in this suitcase?" he demanded.

"I don't know," the assistant answered slowly, realizing he might should have stayed to find out.

The Chief shook his head, making up his mind to follow the illusionist to the train station where his assistant had told him the man was heading. As he entered, he saw Eisenheim walking slowly down the length of the train to another platform, escorting another older man with whom he was rapidly and lowly conversing. The man the handsome illusionist was talking to looked very unusual, indeed. He had quite a pointy face, with a large nose and short, bushy beard, and a thin mouth. His eyes were perfectly round, and this was quite strange. Altogether, it was a face one wasn't likely to love - except if you were that face's mother, perhaps.

The Chief hung back behind a wall, hiding behind a newspaper - that classic eavesdropping trick that never failed to get him information - and did just that with the illusionist. He listened in unscrupulously as they walked past him.

" . . . The map will show you where to meet," Eisenheim was telling the man. "When it's done, you'll travel ahead with her, and I shall follow."

"And she understand everything this entails?" asked the other man in the shaky voice of very old people.

"Completely," Eisenheim said, and the Chief noticed his voice growing suddenly impatient. "There's not a lot of time. . . ."

The rest of the conversation was lost to the Chief in the train whistle and the distance Eisenheim and the stranger put between he and they. The Chief tilted his head back, quite unsure of what to make of that conversation. Whatever it meant, though, he was sure of one thing: it involved the Duchess somehow, and it was - literally - his job to inform the Prince of these movements.

* * *

When he reached the Hofburg, he found that the Prince was out hunting. Not quite the best time to talk with the man, because he would be holding a gun while the Chief told him that his fiancé was conspiring something with the Illusionist - a man he already despises. The Chief decided not to mention the kiss his assistant had witnessed, but only the plans he thought they were forming. That would be bad enough.

The Chief nervously took of his hat and toyed with his behind his back as the Prince looked at him expectantly, loading his gun for the next round. "As you know," Chief Uhl said, successfully concealing most of his angst, "we sometimes follow Duchess Swan for her protection." The Chief couldn't hold the Prince's suddenly ice-cold glare anymore, and he stared at the ground. "Yesterday, she was seen in the company of another man."

The Prince didn't answer until the Chief looked up again - which he did so reluctantly.

Besides his ice-cold glare that hadn't relaxed since the mention of the Duchess, the Prince seemed quite calm. "What man?" he asked emotionlessly.

"Eisenheim the Illusionist," Uhl informed him.

The Prince looked down - too calmly for the Chief's liking - and asked, without looking up, "What were they doing?"

The Chief shook his head once. "Well," he said dismissively, "they were meeting, and, uh -"

"Touching? Kissing?" The Prince prompted, interrupting, still unnaturally calm. "Fornicating?"

"Not that we observed, no," the Chief said, hurrying to assure. The Prince didn't seem so convinced. His blue eyes flashed as he stared at the ground, and the Chief knew there was something brewing beneath his calm façade. "However, I have reason to believe that they may be planning something together."

The Prince's calm face was rigid as he cocked his gun without looking away from the ground several feet from them. The Chief suppressed a shudder. Hopefully, someone would warn the Duchess before this man got to her. He knew that meeting wouldn't be a pretty one.

"It's possible they may be leaving," he pressed on, valiantly trying to ignore his impulses to leave immediately, without saying anything more. "I'm not certain of anything yet, Your Highness."

"Thank you, Inspector," the Prince said, almost before the Chief was done speaking. His face still a rigid mask of calmness, he pulled his gun back against his shoulder.

"We can, of course," the Chief pressed on in a rush of emotion to protect the fragile-looking Duchess from this man, "acquire more information that -"

Without even listening to his informer, the Prince fired without looking. The Chief flinched at the abrupt sound. The Prince lowered the gun, his expression calm except for his livid eyes. The Chief - deciding silence really _was _golden - bowed and left.

* * *

That night, Bella was told she was dining privately with the Prince in his parlor. Not thinking too much of it, she ended her evening ride on her horse sooner than usual and changed quickly, entering the room to wait for her fiancé.

It was a long time before he finally came in, drunk. He blue eyes were rimmed red, his blond hair disheveled, and his uniform was partly unbuttoned. He sat down across the small coffee table from her, pulling the miniature tablecloth that the pitcher of wine and two glasses stood on toward himself, out of Bella's reach. Not that she minded - she'd always hated pretty much any alcohol.

For a long moment, Michael didn't speak to her, and this momentarily confused her. He couldn't know, could he?

Finally, pouring himself a glass, he smirked at her. "What a surprise," he said. "I thought you didn't like it here."

Bella's confusion was immediately frozen in place. _No!_

"I suppose you think you're very clever," he went on, raising the glass to his lips and taking a sip, before saying, "and very democratic in your friendships. Aren't you?" He nodded to her.

"What are you talking about?" Bella asked quietly.

"Your magician friend," answered Michael, almost as casually as if it didn't really upset him. "I know you've been with him."

Bella stared at him for a moment. _Well_, she thought, _I was going to leave, anyways. He's just given me the perfect opportunity._ "It's true," she said tonelessly. "We've been friends since childhood."

The Prince glanced across to her quickly. "You sleep with all your childhood friends?" he sneered.

Bella froze again. "I will not be spoken to this way," she said quietly, but still angrily.

Michael furiously jumped up. "You will be spoken to as I wish to speak to you!"

Bella looked to the ground, raising her eyebrows. "You're drunk," she accused calmly.

"You're getting quite old, aren't you?" Michael suddenly asked. "You know, my mother was sixteen years old when she married my father. And you? Can you even bear children? Are you any use at all?"

Bella rose as he walked around the table to her.

"Are you trying to embarrass me?" Michael asked, raising his voice a little.

"This has nothing to do with you," Bella said calmly, meeting his eyes.

The Prince gestured impatiently, roaring, "_It has everything to do with me!_" Bella stopped, staring at him in shock. Michael had never, no matter how angry he'd been with her, raised his voice in that way. "You will not share my bed, if you've slept with him!"

Bella shook her head, smiling slightly. "You don't understand," she said, smiling fading. "I'm not going to share your bed at all. I'm not going to Budapest with you. I don't want to be part of what you're planning. And I will not marry you."

Without even deigning to answer, Michael struck her across the face as hard as he could. Bella gasped in shock, and they stared at each other for a long moment. Then, as calmly as if their discussion had not taken place at all, Michael said, "I assume you haven't been so stupid as to tell him anything. Because, if you disrupt my plans, I will have no further use for you. Do you understand? Now, you will travel to Budapest tomorrow. I recommend that you are here early, packed and ready to go. Do nothing more to embarrass me."

Throughout this entire monologue, Bella remained silently staring. Now, she shook her head slightly. "Goodbye," she said quietly, walking to the door.

Without looking away from the wall, Michael demanded, "What do you mean, 'goodbye'? Come back here," he commanded when she didn't pause. "Come back here!"

Bella ran, realizing he was following her. Michael chased her all the way to the stables, as a servant watched in shock from the upstairs window.

* * *

The Duchess fled into the stables, trying to reach her horse. The servant watched as Prince ran after her, but paused and staggered in the middle of the yard. "Don't disobey me again!" he roared, his words slurring a little bit. "Whore!"

The servant watched the Prince disappear into the stable after her. Though he could not hear them, he distinctly heard their voices.

"Out of my way," he heard the Duchess say imperiously. He heard a sword drawn, as though the Prince had taken his sword out of its sheath. "Please, don't," he heard the Duchess beg, before crying out as a horse neighed indignantly.

The servant's eyes widened to the point of little bulbs as he saw the Duchess' horse trot from the stables and out of the castle, the Duchess trying to hold herself up, but in the end collapsing against its back unresponsively, appearing dead. The servant gasped, and turned slowly away from the mirror, unsure of what to do.

The guard at the gate let the horse through with the impassive Duchess still slumped against its back.

* * *

Packing up his things in his remote woodland house with his assistants, Edward told one man about to take out a light briefly, "No, leave that. Leave all the lanterns."

He walked anxiously out to the front yard. Bella should have been there by then, but there was no sign of her. Working to hide his worry, he went back inside.

* * *

The next morning, the Duchess' white horse returned to the Hofburg, rider-less, and as the guard led it to the stables, he saw that the fur on the right side of its neck was coated and matted thickly with dried blood.

* * *

**Ooh, dramatic! If you've seen the movie, you know what's going to happen. If not, sorry for the cliffy. WHERE'S BELLA? Is she dead? (This only applies to those who haven't seen the movie): when you review - cuz you will - tell me what you think has happened to her. **

**And to everyone: just review!!**


	8. Ghost

**Author's Note: All right, this is still a FLASHBACK. Italics are still the Chief talking with the Prince in the present, but in these flashbacks they're just sort of narrations. Sorry for any confusion. This chapter also isn't very good - it's sort of a filler. **

* * *

8. Ghost

Immediately upon seeing the blood, the servant had gone for help. With the Prince and the Emperor away, it was many other men who set out to search the forests surrounding the Hofburg. All of them cried out, "Duchess Swan!" as though they expected her to come, but nothing happened. The dogs could find no scent of her. Among the searchers, Edward looked around, terrified.

Down by the lake, one unfortunate man found a body on the other bank, entangled in the branches of an overhanging bush. "Over here!" he shouted to the others.

Edward flew down to the river, ripping off his coat in the process. The other men watched in shock and Edward flung himself into the ice-cold river, not seeming to notice its temperature. He swam as quickly as he could across it until he reached Bella's white, ice-cold body. Catching her up in his arms and realizing she was dead, his face crumpled in pain and he buried his head in her body. Dragging her back to the shore, he saw the sword cut in her neck and knew who'd done this.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the Chief Inspector arrived, and his two assistants met him out of his carriage. Furiously, Charles Uhl rounded on them. "I thought you saw her get on the train with him," he said in an enraged tone.

"No, sir," one assistant said. "We were waiting in Vienna for them, but they left from Baden. We _assumed_ she was with him. Should I wire the Crown Prince in Budapest?"

"It's been done," said Uhl curtly, as they approached an old man that appeared strangely familiar to the chief. "Who are you?"

"I'm the family's doctor," the old, pointy-faced man replied. "Are you the chief inspector?"

"Yes, I am. You understand this is a police matter now?"

"Of course I understand," said the man indignantly.

The Chief nodded. "Good, good. You have determined the cause of death?" he asked, wincing as he thought of the young duchess cold and white.

"She bled to death," the man responded briskly, all business. "There's a wound on her throat, just above the left collarbone. Perhaps from a knife or a sword."

"May I take a look?" the Chief asked quietly.

The back of the carriage was opened for him and his two assistants. It was hard to see the young, frail-looking Duchess so pale and still, and so dirty from the river. As he inspected her wound, his assistant lifted her skirts, looking up.

"Inspector," the doctor cried indignantly, slapping the assistant's hands away, "I - I will not stand for it. The Crown Prince will not stand for it. This is not some circus sideshow."

"My apologies, of course," the Chief said, bowing and turning after one last saddened look at the Duchess. He sighed. "Thank you, Doctor."

He gestured for his assistants to follow him. The one who'd lifted her skirts said as soon as they were out of the doctor's hearing distance, "Probably robbed. Gypsies, maybe. Saw all those diamonds, couldn't say no."

"Chief Inspector," the doctor said, following them. "There's one thing you should know." He held out a small container, holding a small ruby in it that looked vaguely familiar to the Chief as well as the doctor himself. Why did those strangely round eyes strike a chord somewhere? "In the folds of her dress, I found this small gemstone."

* * *

As the cart carrying Bella's body rode away, Edward looked after it, his face still expressing only all the sadness of the world. Then he angrily stormed over to the Inspector who was discussing Bella's last few days with his assistants.

"Seen last Thursday at 7:30 pm, riding without an escort toward the Hofburg," the assistant recited from a book. "Groomsman said she arrived at about 8:30."

"What was she doing riding alone?" the Chief asked no one in particular when Edward burst into the conversation, pointing accusingly at the Chief.

"He did this," he practically shouted. "You know he did."

"I know who did what?" the Chief asked calmly.

"The Crown Prince!" Edward said. "He killed her. He's done it before, and you know it."

"No, I don't know that," the Chief said defensively. "In fact, I'm sure he didn't. He's in Budapest."

Edward rolled his eyes impatiently. "He killed her before he left!"

"I'm afraid the facts don't support your theory."

Edward hesitated, clearly desperate. "She was leaving him," he finally admitted quietly.

"For who?" the Chief asked skeptically. "You?"

"Yes!" Edward responded, raising his voice.

"Don't be absurd, Herr Eisenheim," the Chief said, rolling his eyes.

Edward didn't even care about the ridicule. He only needed them to grasp the truth - for Bella's sake. "He killed her because he couldn't let her go," he said. "She knew his secret."

One of the assistants looked up, startled. "What secret?" he demanded.

"Ask your inspector," Edward told him. "He knows -"

"Stop this right now!" yelled the Chief.

Edward scoffed. "Are you completely corrupt?" he asked scathingly.

"No, not completely, no," answered the Chief easily. "Which is why I'll advise you not to accuse anyone, especially His Imperial Highness. Or you will end up in jail yourself."

The Chief and his two assistants stormed away, leaving Edward behind, staring blankly ahead of him as though Uhl was still standing there.

In his carriage, the Chief looked down. Despite his lies, he knew there was truth in what the illusionist had said. The Duchess _had _known the Prince's secret. If she had been leaving him, it was only logical the Prince would have murdered her. He'd even seen the Prince's fury at her himself on the very day of her death.

* * *

As he walked through the courtyard to the stables of the Hofburg, he was joined by one of his assistants again.

"Where's the guard who let her out of the gate?" he asked.

"Gone with the Crown Prince," answered the assistant promptly, consulting a notepad he held.

"Did any of the servants see her leave?" Charles asked.

"All asleep," he answered. The Chief noticed a groomsman loitering by the stables.

"What about him?"

"He put her horse in the first stall when she arrived," the assistant recited from the pad.

"Ah." The Chief immediately turned and walked briskly into the stables, going straight to the first stall. As he examined it cautiously, his assistant nervously looked around.

"We don't have jurisdiction on Imperial property," the assistant reminded him.

"Thank you, I know," the Chief said absently, still inspecting the stable.

"So what are you doing?"

"Investigating," the Chief said, almost dryly, bending down to smell some dried red liquid on the ground.

"Listening to that magician, are you?" his assistant asked. "For all we know, _he_ did it."

The Chief looked around at the other stables, hoping for some leads. There was nothing. He sighed before answering, "No, I think not." He remembered the way the illusionist had stared at the Duchess. Completely and hopelessly in love. The thought of him harming her with that look on his face, let along murdering her, was quite absurd.

The other assistant walked in and announced, "The Crown Prince is back."

As the Chief turned to follow his two underlings out the door, something glinted in the light in the Duchess' stable and caught his eye. Before he could actually find it, though, he was forced to leave.

"What have you found out?" the Prince demanded upon his arrival, without stopping in his walk.

"She was last seen riding here, alone," the Chief answered promptly.

"Yes," the Prince acknowledged. He stopped and turned to his inspector confusedly. "And based on your information, I then threw her out. Did she commit suicide?"

The Chief shook his head. "No. It was surely murder."

"Do you have a suspect?" the Prince asked.

"We will soon, Your Highness."

The Prince nodded and walked away, leaving the Chief staring at the ground.

_Later that week, we arrested a man and charged him with murder, but I knew that that wouldn't satisfy Eisenheim._

For weeks afterward, Edward locked himself in his isolated house, eating nothing, sleeping little, and barely moving at all.

_I had my men continue to watch him. He finally emerged from his grief and bought a rundown theater. _

Edward stood with a realtor, looking at a small, beat-up theater that was particularly cheap - which was perfect for him because he'd given all his money to Bella before she died. "It's perfect," he announced.

_He fired his manager and began preparing for a new kind of show. _

Edward hired many Oriental friends that he'd had during his travels to be his new assistants and troupe. They set up new fliers advertising him around his theater, and broadcasted his new performance of that night.

* * *

As Edward sat down on the stage, he held his hand out to the table sitting next to him. The flames lighting the stage slowly turned away from him, and a grayish-blue smoke ball slowly took the form of a boy's head on the table. The audience gasped.

"Who is he?" one man cried out. The ghost turned to look at him.

"My name is Frankel," he answered calmly.

"Where did you come from?" another man asked.

The boy-head turned to the man and said, "I come from Brunn. My father is a lens grinder there."

"How have you come to be here tonight?" another man shouted.

Edward glanced at Frankel, and Frankel looked to the ground confusedly. Then the boy-head looked back at the man who'd asked the question.

"I don't know," he answered in a confused voice that told everyone he was telling the truth.

A woman asked shyly, "Are you alive?"

The boy hesitated, bewildered. Before he could answer, the crowd immediately threw questions at him.

"What can you tell us about the other side?"

"What's it like?"

"Yes, tell us."

"You must know things. Secret things."

"Say something spiritual."

Edward looked around the audience calmly before waving his hand. The boy bowed his head and his ghost faded away. The crowd gasped, and chattered excitedly as they left. As the Chief and his assistants walked out of the theater, they saw an entire group of people banging on Edward's backstage door, calling to him.

The Chief turned to his assistant confusedly. "They don't seem to think it's a trick."

* * *

**Sorry that was boring. The next few will be better, and the last will be sort of an epilogue, sort of an explaining chapter - a filler, I guess, but it's in the present. **

**Review!!!**


	9. It's Not Real

* * *

9. "It's Not Real"

Edward soon became, as the Chief Inspector had said, even more famous and revered. Every night he put on a show, conjuring some ghost or another, in his rundown theater. And every night his little auditorium was so sold out, people were standing, crowding into each other, just for a glimpse. Strangely, though, Edward was never satisfied with his ghosts. It was as if he kept conjuring them, hoping for a specific one, only to be disappointed when another came in its place. That night, Edward conjured a small boy with dark hair and dark eyes. He looked no older than seven or eight. Edward turned to a volunteer woman on the stage.

"Madam," he said to her. "Please?"

The woman approached the child, his eyes following her the entire time as though he were truly _there_, and she passed a hand through his head. The crowd gasped.

* * *

The next day, a Sunday, churches had found new enthusiasm for their work in Edward's ghosts. "With these spirits, these manifestations," one preached to his fellows, not knowing that one of the Chief Inspector's assistants was among them, "Eisenheim has given us hard proof of the soul's immortality. The spirit has been reaffirmed in the face of modern, scientific materialism. The work of spiritualism will rouse humanity to a new, moral earnestness." He slammed his hand on his podium for emphasis. The assistant recorded everything he said into a notepad.

That afternoon, after the preaching was finished, the assistant recited everything to the Chief and his fellow underling.

" '. . . It is a revolutionary movement, and we will turn the empire into a spiritual republic,' " he concluded. The other assistant sat in a chair, mulling over this new development.

"Do you think Eisenheim's behind all this?" he asked the Chief. The Chief, though he didn't answer, secretly thought not. What interest did the magician have in religion, in a higher power, when the love of his life had been snatched away from him by that very thing?

The Chief sighed, putting his hands on his hips and looking out the window, very melancholy.

* * *

That day, the Chief was expected to brief the Prince on the political situation of Vienna, and that mainly meant Eisenheim. The Prince was in his bedroom, getting shots by the doctor, and when he told the Prince of Eisenheim, the Prince scoffed. "Why must I be bothered with a magician?"

The Chief chuckled once without humor. "He's proving to be more than a magician, Your Highness."

The doctor moved away from the Prince, and the Prince sucked his wounded hand. "He's a charlatan. He's a faker." He snorted skeptically. "He pretends to have supernatural powers. . . ." He shrugged and gestured to make his point appear as if it were obvious. "Put him on trial for fraud."

The Chief shook his head. "First, we have to show that it _is _fraud."

The Prince whirled around impatiently to face him. "Then do it. Find out how the trick is done, and then arrest him."

* * *

The Chief, obedient to his employer's commands, sought ought another highly acclaimed illusionist, to see if that man could show him how the trick was produced. The fat illusionist had his troupe turn on a noisy projector, depicting a man twirling around to be viewed from all angles. The recorded man wasn't at all responsive to those around him, as Eisenheim's illusions were, and that projector was far louder than anything the Chief had heard in Eisenheim's theater.

"This is just a rough demonstration, Inspector," the fat illusionist said. "But you can see how it could work."

The recorded man continued spinning to the sound of the impossibly loud projector. The Chief sighed and shared a glance with his assistant.

"Yes, I see," he told the fat man. "Not bad, not bad." He and his assistant walked away a few paces, and the Chief muttered to him, "We need a spy in Eisenheim's troupe."

His assistant shook his head morosely. "Those Orientals, they won't give us anything. I already tried."

The Chief turned to the door and threw over his shoulder angrily, "Yeah? Then try something else." He stormed away, and his assistant looked back to the projection, sighing.

That night the other assistant tried to break in to Eisenheim's small theater. He succeeded in getting to the stage, his way lit by a single candle - until he heard something behind him. He whirled around to see three of Eisenheim's Orientals behind him.

Two minutes later, the second assistant was thrown violently out into the street, and an Oriental discreetly closed the door behind him.

* * *

As the Chief strolled down the street, preparing to go back to his office even though it was late at night (he hadn't gotten much work done lately, and he couldn't sleep anyway), he found a very large group of men and women gathered in the street. He picked up his pace until he was upon a group of three men.

"What has happened here?" he demanded of them, staring up the street to the others.

One of the men responded shakily, "One of those ghosts from the theater down the street."

The Chief turned sharply to face him, completely shocked.

"Yes. Up there," another of the group agreed, pointing.

"Where?" the Chief demanded angrily.

"Right there," the third and last man finally said. "And it's a boy."

The Chief walked furiously toward the area the man had pointed to, muttering, "Sick!"

He found another group, this time mainly of women, but he could find no ghost. He approached the women, demanding, "Where is this thing?"

One woman answered, sobbing, "Over there." She gestured with her chin, and the Chief followed the glance, but still didn't see anything.

"Uh-huh," he muttered, merely to show his recognition that she had spoken. "Did you see it?"

"Mm-hmm!!" The woman sobbed louder, nodding quickly.

The Chief tried to get to the front of the group, but he was repeatedly shoved back by unknowing people. He heard many people conversing about the ghost as he struggled to get into sight.

"God. An apparition. I saw it. I swear."

"Right over there."

* * *

The next night, Edward conjured a little boy to play with some toys on the stage while the audience watched in awe. Suddenly, a woman in the audience standing by the door gasped and flung herself backward. The Chief, only a few paces away from her and also standing, looked up sharply. What he saw seriously affected him: a small ghost-boy walking calmly into the theater. The boy passed behind the back row of seats, and one man turned to pass his hand through the child. The boy watched him do it, never stopping, but quite serene. The Chief pressed himself against the wall as hard as he could to get away from the ghost-boy, and the child passed him after a long sideways glance. The Chief's eyes widened hugely, because that glance proved he wasn't a recording - no recording could respond to the audience like that. The boy continued his migration to the stage and Edward steadily, paying no more attention to the Chief.

After the show, the audience and waiting crowd outside yelled horribly as they saw the police dragging Edward away. The Chief brought Edward into his office, and Edward took the seat across the Chief's desk. The Chief turned and said to Edward curtly, "I want to know how it's done."

Edward leaned back lazily in his chair. "First the orange tree, now this," he said, completely unperturbed by the Chief's harsh tones. "Do I have to share all my professional secrets with the police?"

"Well, in this case, yes, or I'll be forced to arrest you," the Chief informed him gruffly.

Edward cocked his head to one side. "On what charge?" he asked politely.

The Chief gestured to show that he had a multitude of excuses to arrest him with. "Oh, well, we'll start with fraud."

Just then, the door opened and the Chief's underling shuffled inside, mumbling, "Excuse me, Chief Inspector -"

"What?" the Chief demanded impatiently, interrupting.

His henchman sighed. "I think you should look outside the window."

Both Edward and the Chief turn to look at the closed window. The Chief walked over to see a huge silent group waiting just outside for Edward.

"Who are they?" he asked uneasily. There was something not quite right about that silent mob.

"They're here for him," said the assistant, looking pointedly at Edward, who smirked.

The Chief turned back, trying to hide his discomfort. "My goodness, you have a devoted following," he said to Edward. "What is it they expect of you?"

Edward shrugged uncaringly. "I have no idea. What do your spies tell you?"

"That you plan to subvert the monarchy, perhaps," the Chief prompted.

Edward's face turned confused as he looked at the Chief warily. "Why?" he asked in that same dead voice that haunted the Chief. The illusionist had adopted that dead-man voice after the Duchess had died. "Just because the Crown Prince is a murderer?"

The Chief gestured impatiently. He didn't want to talk about that. "He's not a murderer. We have the real murderer in prison. He pleaded guilty."

Edward raised his eyebrows coolly, not pleading or desperate anymore. "You've got the wrong man," he said in that emotionless voice. It sent shivers up the Chief's spine just to hear it.

"You don't know that," he said, still working to hide his feelings and be gruff.

Edward looked up sharply. "No," he said, "but you do."

The assistant glanced quickly at the faltering Chief. But the Chief quickly regained control of himself and said angrily, "Herr Eisenheim, you will also go to prison if you don't explain to me what it is you are doing."

It seemed the spell that had held the mob outside silent broke, and there was a great roaring of voices shouting, "Let him go!" again and again, and then they all chanted, "Eisenheim!"

The Chief never looked away from Edward, but said severely, "The sentence will be greater if that mob attacks the building."

The crowd continued chanting, and Edward merely stared at the Chief, his face calculating but otherwise expressionless. "Well?" the Chief demanded.

Suddenly Edward leapt lightly to his feet and strode to the window. He had it opened and was out on the balcony before the Chief was even standing.

"What are you doing?" the Chief hissed. "Stop! _Stop_!"

"There he is!" one man shouted when he saw Edward. The crowd cheered loudly, and Edward struggled to be heard over them.

"Listen to me, please!" he shouted. The cheering died down only a little. "You must listen to me, please!" The crowd finally was silent again, Edward lowered his voice. "Thank you all for coming. I have been speaking with the Chief Inspector." The Chief ducked behind the wall as Edward gestured to him, and the crowd booed loudly. "And I think there's been a serious misunderstanding. I want you all to know that everything that you have seen in my theater is an illusion. It's a trick. It's not real."

Inside, the Chief closed his eyes, leaned heavily against the wall, and shook his head once in admiration and annoyance. He knew what the illusionist was doing, but he could do nothing about it. Edward's voice and expression turned even sadder than usual as he continued.

"I can't bring loved ones back from the grave," he said, and his tone suggested he was admitting a horrible weakness, one that disappointed even himself. "I can't receive messages from the other side. I apologize if I've give you any false hope. My intention has been only to entertain, nothing more."

The crowd muttered amongst themselves, and most were under the impression that he was only saying this because the Chief made him. Edward went on, unphased.

"Now, I appreciate your support. But you must go home. Please, you must go."

The crowd looked down, away from Edward, and straggled away, still sure he was saying those things under duress alone. Edward walked slowly back inside the room, closing the window behind him, and the Chief glared at him angrily. Edward's face remained unmoved. The Chief's anger - which usually scared even the bravest of men - had absolutely no effect on him. And why would it? His entire life was already dead. Nothing could scare him anymore, because he had nothing to lose.

"There, now," Edward said coldly. "I've explained it, so it can't be fraud. May I go?"

The Chief's glare relaxed a little, and he smirked, reluctantly gesturing to the door in admiration. The assistant threw open the door for him, allowing it to bang deafeningly against the wall.

* * *

The next morning, the Chief once again had to report to the Prince that he was failing. The Prince sighed angrily after his explanation. They were both seated in the Prince's private parlor.

The Prince glared at his Chief. "Has he tricked you? Is that it?"

The Chief shook his head once. "No, Your Highness."

The Prince glared at him. "Then why are you failing me? I thought I could trust you. I thought you were a man I could bring with me when I took the throne. Am I wrong about you?"

The Chief shook his head once again. "No," he said, rushing to assure. "You're not wrong, Your Highness, no."

The Prince shocked him with a sudden roar of, _"I need men who can complete the tasks assigned to them!"_ Then the Prince lowered his voice again, speaking quite calmly as though nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. The Chief fidgeted uneasily. The man was insane. "Instead, I'm surrounded by fools. In the end, I must do everything myself. I can see this case will be no different."

The Prince stood to exit, and the Chief bowed, watching him warily. The Prince was soon gone, and the Chief exhaled in acute relief, and glared at the ground in annoyance he could never express to the Prince - at least, not without getting fired at the very least.

* * *

**Hmm. That was kind of boring too. I'll update maybe tomorrow, perhaps later. I don't know. Anyways, REVIEW!!**


	10. Bella Speaks and Death

**Author's Note: Sorry for the slow update. I've been so busy with my birthday on Monday (I just turned sixteen!!) and getting ready for Christmas and working on a new story of mine that I haven't had time to really work on my other stories. This chapter's good and boring in two different ways. It starts out kinda slow, but gets better. So no skimming, you cheaters!! :) **

**And also, this chapter might be a bit confusing. Like I promised, it starts out still in a flashback. But about three-quarters through, it goes back into the present. I'll let you know when that happens.**

* * *

10. Bella Speaks and Death

That evening, the Prince planned to attend the illusionist's performance with the Chief. He dressed himself as a common man, totally run of the mill, completely generic. His blond hair was slicked back underneath a hat, his blue eyes half-concealed behind common glasses. He wore not fine, but not coarse, clothing.

"How do I look?" he asked the Chief. The Chief raised his eyebrows at the arrogance of the Prince - he sounded rather like a woman, modeling a new dress.

"Ordinary, Your Highness," he said. "Very ordinary."

The Prince looked out the window, almost excited. "I think I'm going to enjoy this," he murmured. The Chief didn't know if he meant he was going to enjoy proving his point that he could do what others couldn't, or that he was going to enjoy unmasking Eisenheim. In the end, he decided to let it go. For once, the workings of the Prince's mind weren't his concern, and he was determined to use that.

The Chief got out of the carriage first when it stopped, and the Prince sprung lightly from if afterward. The Prince stood casually about, watching the faces of all those that passed him, nodding his head in respect as was custom. No one looked twice at him. The Chief came a step closer and murmured, "They don't recognize you."

The Prince nodded once, satisfied. "Good," he said, walking towards the theater. The Chief began to follow, but the Prince gestured him back. "And keep your distance. I don't want to be seen with a policeman."

The Prince, the Chief, and the Chief's two assistants come into the theater and are seated just as the lights dim. Edward appeared on the stage, and walked to the single seat occupying it. The Prince glanced around himself, looking for projectors or lights of any kind that would clue him in, but found nothing. He looked back to the illusionist. Edward was fully focused on his task, and slowly the flames turned away from him. Edward raises his arm, and a bluish-gray shape appeared where he indicated. The audience gasped hugely, and even the Prince's eyes widened in shock. He leaned forward urgently as Edward's arm fell exhaustedly again. Edward looked up at his apparition hopefully, and for once, his expression didn't fall in disappointment when he saw who he'd conjured. Bella stood there, wearing the simple dinner outfit she was found dead in. She was still a bluish-gray color, but there was no wound on her throat in her ghost form, and she was clean. Edward stared at her, leaning forward longingly, and she turned to him, completely bewildered. The Prince almost looked frightened as he recognized the Duchess, but he hid it well.

"Who are you?" a man in the audience asked.

Another man added tentatively, "Are you Duchess Swan?"

Bella slowly and reluctantly turned back to the audience. Her voice was whispering and far-away sounding. It was the first time the audience had heard one of Eisenheim's ghosts speak, and they chattered nervously and excitedly when she said softly, "Yes."

"What's happened to you?" a man asked.

Another man answered him bluntly, "She was murdered." But then that man must have realized that the investigation was still incomplete, because he asked her uncertainly, "Were you murdered?"

Bella looked down to the stage, and nodded once, almost to herself. The audience blew up into many voices, demanding of her. Bella turned more confused as they shouted at her. Edward, however, was completely oblivious to the voices. He had been scanning the audience casually, just out of habit, really - until his emerald eyes found the Prince in disguise. And there they stayed, glaring.

"By who?"

"Did they arrest the right man?"

"Tell us, please. Who murdered you?"

"Tell us!"

Poor Bella hesitated, faltering. "Someone," she said haltingly, like a child learning to speak for the first time. "Here."

In the audience, the Chief's eyes widened in confusion and shock as he stared at Bella. The flood of voices rushed in again, and Bella put a hand to her forehead, as though it were confusing to the point of pain for her to hear them.

"Tell us. Point him out!"

"Was it the Crown Prince?"

The Prince leaned even further forward unconsciously, nervously, his eyes widened to the point of small saucers. The audience remained oblivious and continued shouting, gathering steam.

"He's killed a woman before!"

"Hey, the Crown Prince isn't even here!"

"The Crown Prince killed her! Something must be done!"

Bella's form blurred as she looked back to Edward, extending her hand, grasping. Edward tried to reach her, but she disappeared before he could touch her. He dropped his hand and head, exhausted and miserable. Without a word to his audience, he got up and walked off the stage. The crowd rises in a fury not directed at him, chattering quickly.

A man followed the Chief as he made his way to the Prince. "Chief Inspector," he said in an imperious voice, "are you sure you have the right man?"

"Quite sure," the Chief said briefly, fighting to get out of the theater. "Excuse me."

The peremptory man disregarded this, and still followed him, asking, "Did you investigate the Crown Prince? He cannot continued if this is true. He must be brought to justice!"

The Chief turned to face the man wearily. "It's not true. That magic trick is not evidence. What is your name?"

The man froze, and said stiffly, "I don't see how that matters."

"I advise you to watch what you say, sir," the Chief said ominously, and walked away.

* * *

In the carriage, the Prince was furiously talking to the Chief, completely disbelieving (or so he said) of the whole performance.

"That actress didn't even look like Bella," he muttered. "But the audience is stupid and he knows it. He manipulates them. He himself said nothing. His actress said nothing inflammatory. He left it to the audience to make their accusations. All plants paid for by him, of course. I don't suppose you made a note of those people?"

The Chief shook his head. "I'm afraid we didn't have enough men tonight."

The Prince gestured impatiently, saying silently to bring more next time. "At the next performance, I want them all arrested. Every one of them. Eisenheim, the whole troupe. I want to have an example made of him in front of all of his followers."

The Chief looked out the window, only his eyes expressing how reluctant he was to arrest Edward.

* * *

The Chief summoned Edward once again into his office. He paced impatiently while Edward lazily reclined in a single wooden chair across the Chief's desk. Edward appeared deep in thought, and wasn't paying much attention to the Chief - that is, until the Chief whirled furiously to him.

"That was very foolish last night," he said, sounded for all the world like a scolding father. He seemed to realize this and sighed. "You can't destroy him, you know. You can't bring down the monarchy."

Edward didn't even glance up. "Oh, I know _I_ can't," he responded easily.

The Chief gestured irately. "Then don't raise her again," he commanded. "Don't provoke those questions." He paced away restlessly again, and Edward remained unmoved. "Herr Eisenheim, I don't want to arrest you," he said in a voice that suggested how tired he was of all these stupid games. "I'm a cynical man, God knows, but if your manifestations are somehow real, then even I'm willing to admit you're a very special person." He shrugged. "And if it's a trick, then it's equally impressive. Either way, you have a gift. So don't make me put you in jail! Promise me you won't do it again."

This time, Edward did look up to meet the inspector's eyes. "I promise you, you'll enjoy tonight's show," he said calmly.

Chief sighed again, sinking into his chair. He knew that the illusionist hadn't promised not to do it again. "What do you want?" he asked, still weary.

Edward shook his head slowly, slightly raising his eyebrows as he looked back to the floor again. "Nothing."

The Chief raised his voice again. "Then why bring her back?" he demanded.

Edward shrugged miserably. "Just to be with her."

The Chief froze, and a look of sympathy and awe flooded his face. "To be with her," he repeated slowly, almost pityingly.

Edward looked away, unable to hold his glance for long.

* * *

That night the Chief had guards everywhere, all over Edward's theater. He walked over to his assistant, who was in a uniform matching the other guards.

"Everything is ready?" he prompted.

The assistant nodded. "Yes, sir. We're trying to asses how he might escape."

The Chief raised his voice angrily. "He will not escape. I want guards at every door and window!"

His henchman nodded once. "Sir."

* * *

Backstage, Edward had summoned Leopold to speak with him. Edward stood easily, his hands in his pockets, while Leopold sat fidgeting.

"I want to apologize to you for my behavior of late," Edward said. "But I want to make it up to you, if you'll listen to a proposition."

His old manager and friend looked down, shaking his head. "Well, I don't know," he said. Edward knew, though, that he really was interested, he was only trying to seem like he hadn't been completely dependent on Edward.

He resisted the urge to smile as he said persuasively, "I'll make it worth your while, Leopold."

Leopold only confirmed his suspicions by glaring up at him. "You know, I'm very busy right now," he said furiously. "I haven't just been sitting around waiting for you."

Edward walked over to a nearby table, where he's set down an envelope containing the deeds to everything he owned. "No. No, of course," he said absently. He extended the envelope to Leopold. "I want you to assume control of all my finances. And my assets. Everything."

Leopold hesitates, taking the envelope slowly. "Everything?" he asked tentatively, unable to conceal his greed.

Edward nodded once. "Yes. Including this theater, and all the receipts from tonight's performance which I offer with my sincere thanks. What do you say?"

Leopold rose from his seat, slowly, and even more hesitantly took the envelope. Something didn't seem right to him. The way Eisenheim was talking made this arrangement sound more like a will.

But finally, he lust for money won out. He took the envelope confidently. "All right," he said. "I'll do it."

He and Edward shook hands, and Edward's smile was brighter than it had been in weeks. "Good."

Leopold put the envelope in his pocket, and asked, "Would you like me to introduce you tonight?"

Edward shook his head. "No," he said slowly. "Tonight, just enjoy the show."

Edward went to get ready, and the manager walked back outside to sit with the audience. He found a slew of soldiers in uniform, armed and seeming expectant. He hesitantly approached the Chief.

"Excuse me, Chief Inspector," he said. "I'm Leopold Fischer, Eisenheim's manager."

The Chief resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but couldn't keep his impatience out of his voice as he responded, "Yes, I remember."

Leopold got right to the point. "What's going on?" he asked. "Why all the police?"

The Chief shook his head once. "Precautions, Herr Fischer. Precautions."

Leopold's brow creased in confusion, remembering the will-like transaction from only moments ago. "Are you planning to arrest Eisenheim?"

The Chief shook his head again. "Oh, that's entirely up to him," he said vaguely. Leopold went back to his seat, and the Chief remained standing where he was as the lights dimmed.

Finally, a tall man with bronze hair and bewitching emerald-green eyes walked onto the stage, carrying nothing, saying nothing, expressing nothing on his face except all the sadness of the world. He walked to the center of the stage and sat in the single chair occupying it, along with a small table.

The audience waited expectantly, and the magician focused so completely on his task that he was oblivious to the Chief Inspector sitting in the front of the audience, warning him with his eyes, and the rows of policeman waiting equally as expectantly, though not for the same thing as the rest of the audience. Slowly, the firelights at the front of the stage turned their flames away from him, blowing towards the audience. More slowly still, a bluish-gray light began forming at the magician's left, becoming larger and more defined as the time progressed. A young woman stood up - Bella.

"It's Duchess Swan!"

Chief Charles shook his head regretfully, staring at the ground. He knew what he had to do now, and was not happy about it to say the least.

"Why were you murdered?" a man in the audience asked Bella.

Bella stared at Edward - who stared back longingly - as she answered, "I was leaving him."

The flood of voices babbled, as though the break between last night and this night hadn't happened.

"Leaving who?"

"The Crown Prince?"

"Of course it was," a man snapped.

"We won't stand for it!"

Bella continued staring at Edward, but her expression was becoming rapidly confused and hurt. "I tried to get away," she explained to him. She put a hand to her throat without seeming to think about it, then her expression became more bemused when she didn't find her locket. She looked back to Edward, still cupping her throat. "I was wearing my locket when I died," she said in that bewildered tone. "But now it's gone. It's lost."

Something sparked in the Chief's memory . . . Something shiny in a place full of hay . . . The stable! The stable where the Duchess had been struck! Hadn't he thought he'd seen something shiny in there? Was that shiny something the locket she was talking about?

"Tell us, please," a man said to Bella. "Who murdered you?"

"Was it the Crown Prince?"

"We must do something!" a woman was shouting, standing up as her husband tried to pull her back down in fear of the police.

"We must help her!" another man agreed, and a policeman grabbed his coat, pulling him into arrest.

The rows of policeman formed a human gate around the stage, while the Chief Inspector rose and stood next to the "sorcerer." He looked dreadful at what he had to do, but he knew his very career depended on it, and so he was resigned. The crowd grew louder and more forceful, trying to get at the magician's apparition to help her, but the police pushed them back roughly. The inspector looked at the magician with disappointment, and the magician stared back with calm emerald eyes. He knew what he'd done, and he knew the punishment for it, and he was not ashamed of it. He'd do it again if he had the chance. Then Edward went back to gazing at Bella while he had the chance to.

The Chief Inspector cleared his throat. "In the name of his Imperial Majesty and the city of Vienna," he called out, striving to be heard over the ever-growing voices of the angry crowd, "I hereby arrest Edward Masen -" The audience gasped as one, and rushed to the stage, trying to protect their hero, " - also known as Eisenheim the Illusionist on charges of disturbing public order, charlatanism, and threats against the empire!"

By the end of this statement, the poor man had to shout to be heard over the crowd, who were shouting themselves, furiously trying to get to the Illusionist. Bella looked as if she were in pain, seeing the policemen about to get Edward, and tried to make herself stay. Her body began to disperse, as though it were smoke, and she grabbed her stomach as if to hold herself together.

"No!" she cried, reaching out to Edward when she realized it wasn't working. She disappeared. Edward bent down, resting his head in his arms with his arms on his knees as the policemen surrounded him.

The Chief had turned just in time to see Bella painfully make her disappearance. His face crumpled in pain and confusion, and sympathy to Eisenheim, as he hadn't lifted his head yet. The Chief shook his head to rid himself of these emotions and walked over to Edward, who was rapidly turning a strange blue-gray color.

The Chief went to put a hand on Edward's shoulder, to pull him into the arrest, but his hand went right through his body. He nearly fell over, but quickly recovered himself. The audience gasped, as did the Chief and police.

Edward stood up, walking to the front of the stage with a strangely peaceful look on his face, and a policeman held out a sword to stop him. Edward walked right through the blade, and everyone gasped again.

With a look of fierce concentration, Edward slowly threw his head back, and opened his hands, and his body slowly began to turn see-through, until it blurred and finally disappeared. The audience gasped, some women screamed, and everyone repeated, "Where is he?"

The Chief walked disbelievingly to the spot where Edward had vanished. His assistant met him there in astonishment. The Chief glared at the ground for a moment, as though it were the stage's fault that the illusionist had escaped him, and screamed furiously, _"Find him!" _

He stormed off the stage, as the policemen separated to search the entire theater. In the back of the audience, Leopold sat down heavily, looking at the envelope. So that was what Eisenheim had been planning - to disappear. No wonder it had sounded like a will when he'd asked Leopold to assume control of his finances.

* * *

The Chief strode quickly to a policeman who had an Oriental in a headlock. "Where is he?" he demanded quietly.

The Oriental's eyes were wide as he answered hurriedly, in completely awe, "He was right there."

The Chief nodded skeptically. "How was his trick done?"

The Oriental shook his head slowly. "No trick," he said earnestly.

The Chief lost his temper again and yelled, _"How is it done?!"_

The policeman holding the man shook his and he answered hurriedly, tripping over the words in his haste to get them out, "I don't know. Nobody know."

The Chief and his policemen left the man there, and went to search all the backstage rooms. When they had kicked the door down on the last one, to reveal no one inside, the Chief shouted, frustrated, "Damn it!"

They rode as swiftly as they could to Edward's remote woodland house, but found it empty. His ordered his men to search the place for anything that could identify his whereabouts.

While his men were flipping through books and rifling through trinkets, the Chief went to the illusionist's work desk, where all those ideas had been made. He picked up a large bottle of some red liquid and casually sifted through some of the folders, until he found one in particular that said, "ORANGE TREE."

The Chief cocked an eyebrow, smiling slightly, and he opened it. However, he found nothing about the orange tree illusion. What he did find was one single paper - a blueprint - for some strange locket that opened in a bizarre way. His face clearly expressed the sarcasm he was thinking, and he shut the folder, set it down, and walked away to investigate some other book cases.

But something struck his memory. The Duchess in that last illusion, mentioning a locket. . . . That shiny something in the stables. . . . The Chief whirled around and opened the folder again quickly, and this time studied the paper more thoroughly.

* * *

The Chief jumped into his carriage and practically flew to the Hofburg. He didn't meet many people on his way - it was getting very late.

He walked straight into the stables upon arriving, and struck a match to light a lantern. He strode urgently into the first stable where the Duchess had been struck down, and after a few moments of searching through the hay, finally found a wooden locket on a gold chain. Using the blueprint as a guide, he managed to open the locket. He found a picture of a very young Eisenheim still inside, and smirked slightly.

A sudden gust of wind blew the picture from the locket, and he quickly backed up to find it. He didn't want to lose something that had belonged to the frail Duchess. His conscience wouldn't let him live if he did. He found the picture, and next to it, he found a rather large green gemstone, that looked like an emerald. Like the ruby the doctor had found in the Duchess' dress, it somehow seemed familiar to him. . . . And then it hit him.

He went back inside and asked a servant to fetch him the Prince's sword. When the servant returned with it, the Chief stared at him until he walked away. When he had done so, the Chief took out the sword, and found that the green gemstone fit perfectly into the empty hole carved into the sword. There was another, much smaller hole in the sword where a tiny ruby should have been, if he followed the pattern correctly. He groaned, knowing everything the illusionist had said had been true - and then realizing that he was about to face the very murderer.

He walked determinedly back outside and placed the sword into his carriage along with a letter, and the carriage drove off rapidly.

* * *

**(A/N: And we're back to the present. No more flashbacks.)**

"I had my driver take the sword to police headquarters," the Chief finished explaining to the Prince, who sat calmly smoking at his desk. "My men will examine it and see if it matches the gemstone found on Duchess Swan's body - I have no doubt that it will. And after that, I came in here, and you asked me why I was late."

The Prince looked up coolly. "You've stolen Imperial property."

The Chief scoffed. "That seems trivial compared with murder."

The Prince didn't falter. "Even if that were true," he said easily, "you have no jurisdiction here."

The Chief nodded. "Oh, that's right," he murmured. "You may do as you wish here, without consequence. Nobody can punish you." He looked down. "Except one man."

The Prince looked mildly surprised. "Who's that?"

"The Emperor," the Chief reminded him bluntly. "I don't suppose he'll leave his crown to a murderer, do you?"

The Prince hesitated, measuring up the Chief. Finally, he said mockingly, "He'll never believe you."

"Maybe not," the Chief conceded, walking forward to the Prince's desk. "But I wrote a letter to his general staff, telling them . . . everything." The Prince only raised his eyebrows disinterestedly as he stared at his desk, working to hide his fear. The Chief couldn't resist adding, "Including your plan to overthrow the emperor. Now, I know they'll listen to that."

The Prince slowly got to his feet as the Chief finished, "You'll not take the throne - not with my help."

The Prince cocked his head to one side, inquiring, "You no longer want to be chief of police? Mayor of Vienna? You don't want to be a baron, an aristocrat?"

The Chief grimaced as he looked down, sacrificing his life's ambitions for what he thought was right. "I'm afraid that's out of the question at this point," he said, almost bitterly.

The Prince walked around the desk. He glanced into an adjoining room before turning back to a stop in front of the Chief.

"You fool," he said evenly. "He's tricking you. He's manipulating you. He had the sword at a command performance. He could have pried the stones loose then and planted them here. He's planted everything."

"You're drunk," the Chief accused, smelling his breath even from the distance they stood at (about a foot).

"It's all a trick," the Prince went on, as though the Chief hadn't spoken, nodding. "It's an illusion."

The Chief hesitated, staring the Prince down. "Perhaps there's truth in this illusion," he finally said.

The Prince held up one finger, asking for a moment, and ran into the adjoining private parlor where the Duchess saw the Prince for the last time. The Chief followed him warily. The Prince's face was becoming rapidly desperate, and he didn't trust it.

The Prince rushed across the room and opened a dresser drawer, taking out a small pistol, cocked it and pointed it at the Chief.

"You need to wire your driver," he said, and surprisingly his voice was still unnaturally calm, "and have the sword returned."

The Chief gestured helplessly. "Or what?" he threatened.

"Or I'll shoot you," the Prince said ominously. Then he said, as if on second thought, "Perhaps I'll shoot you anyway."

The Chief glared. "And then you'll have killed a police inspector and a duchess."

The Prince's desperation seeped through into his tone as he went on, making up a story to explain the death of the Chief Inspector. "Or perhaps you'll kill yourself," he said. "You, uh, committed suicide, distraught at having failed your leader."

The Chief stared at him, while the Prince couldn't meet his eyes, until they both heard horses galloping swiftly toward the Hofburg. They both glanced out the window to see Imperial soldiers rapidly approaching on horses.

The Prince looked down, completely desperate and distraught at being caught. He also knew that if they were aware of his plan and were coming for him, then he couldn't kill the inspector - it would be too suspicious. The Chief looked out the window calmly.

"Ah," he said. "Some officers of the general staff, I'd guess." He glanced at the Prince slyly. "They must have received my letter."

The Prince stepped back from the window as the soldiers passed the gates. He still pointed the gun at the Chief for a few moments, but then he lowered it dejectedly. "What do you want?" he asked wearily.

"I don't want anything," the Chief said simply.

The Prince began walking around the room, closing and locking all the doors. "Fine," he said. "Fine. You shall have nothing."

Outside, the soldiers marched straight into the castle. In the private parlor, the Prince was practically sprinting around the room to get all the doors locked.

"The situation is so obvious," he almost growled, growing angrier by the moment. "Everyone's completely incompetent." He turned back to the Chief, holding up the gun again. "My father runs the empire into the ground and no one notices, no one knows anything about it. I propose to clean up the mess, and you thank me by betraying me! Well, you're all becoming irrelevant. You will be replaced." He sighed heavily, before exploding, "The country will be run by mongrels! There's a thousand different voices screaming to be heard, and nothing will be done! _Nothing_! I've done everything I can! Too much!" By now, the Prince was panting with operatic rage and desperation, his blue eyes shining with insanity. "Far too much."

Suddenly, the Imperial guards banged at the door. The Chief glanced at the door, but the Prince remained staring at the ground.

"Your Highness!" they all shouted. "Are you in there?"

"Your Highness, open the door."

The Chief saw the Prince begin to fiddle with the gun as he continued staring at the ground. The door banged at rattled, but didn't give way yet.

"Please. Open the door."

"By your father's authority, I insist you open the door!"

The Prince glanced over his shoulder to the floor by the door that was being banged at, still breathing heavily. The Chief was beginning to feel very uneasy.

"You must open the door!"

The Prince finally looked back up to the Chief. "You're all fools," he said calmly.

The Chief moved to go open the door, and the Prince held up the gun again, cocked and ready to shoot him. The Chief gasped.

"Please, Your Highness!"

"I can't stand it," the Prince went on, still whispering. The banging on the door grew in intensity. "I won't stand it."

With a swiftness that startled him, the Chief watched as the Prince threw the gun up to his head and shot himself. His body landed with a thud on the floor, and the door burst open. The Chief fell to his knees beside the young prince's body as the soldiers poured into the room.

"What happened?" one demanded of him.

The chief groaned. "The Crown Prince just shot himself."

* * *

**Whew, sorry to leave such a cliffy. I'll update soon. WHERE'S EDWARD? What's going to happen next? **

**Everyone who **_**hasn't**_** seen the movie: review and tell me where you think Edward has gone.**

**And just to everyone: REVIEW! Oh, and merry Christmas!!!**


	11. Realization

**And here it is, the end of my story. I can't believe it's over! Sorry for the long update, I've been soooo busy with a lot of things - can you believe I'm BABYSITTING on New Years'? Mann, I suck at life. :)**

* * *

11. Realization

After a brief meeting with the emperor where he was promptly debriefed and fired, the Imperial guards escorted Charles Uhl to the gate of the Imperial Palace.

He walked down the street, glumly reflecting on the two young lives cut abruptly short, and the one that had gone missing. He pulled out the locket that had been in his pocket and looked at it for a brief moment before putting it back. The street was busy and loud, and he failed to notice the boy that Edward had once given money to run along behind him, carrying a large manila envelope. Until the boy tapped his arm, and he turned, that is.

As Charles turned, three men walked past him. Two were wearing black suits and the third was wearing a gray suit. The third had bronze hair that was peeking out a bit from under his hat and a black beard. That third man knocked into the ex-Chief, and he looked after him indignantly. Otherwise, he thought nothing of it. He looked back to the boy, who asked, "Are you Chief Inspector Uhl?"

Charles raised his eyebrows, his face clearly expressing his sarcastic thoughts. "I used to be," he said.

The boy handed him the envelope, and then rushed away into the street. Charles looked after him for a moment, smiling, and then looked at the envelope. When he opened it, he found a folder that said, "ORANGE TREE," across the front. His face turned shocked and eager as he opened it and found pure instructions to Eisenheim's trick. He looked back up to find the boy.

"You!" he called urgently. "Who gave you this?"

The boy turned and ran backwards for a moment, smiling. "Herr Eisenheim!" he called back. Then he turned and ran away. The ex-Chief looked around swiftly, almost frightened. Then he remembered that man with his strangely mismatched hair hitting his shoulder as he passed. Charles' hand flew to his pocket, but when he even pulled out the fabric, it was empty.

The locket was gone.

He smiled a little bit, almost amused at the illusionist's tricks that he was still playing on him, and looked around more urgently for him. He finally identified Eisenheim - Edward - as the man briskly walking away, already across the square. He noticed that Edward was pocketing something that glinted in the sunlight.

The ex-Chief chased him, as swiftly as he dared, until they both reached the train station.

The stationmaster blew his whistle, calling, "All aboard!" He noticed Edward about to board, still glancing behind him for Charles, who he knew was following him. "Tickets and papers," the stationmaster said. Edward handed him the requested articles, still looking around for the ex-inspector.

He stood on the stairs of the train, hanging over the edge until he saw Charles. Then he smiled crookedly (a very triumphant smile) and got on the train, just as it began rolling away. The ex-Chief raced after him for a moment, but then stopped short, realizing it was worthless to try.

Charles stood there for a moment, furious that he'd let the younger man get away from him a second time. The train's whistle reminded him of something, but he couldn't quite think what.

Finally, it struck him:

"_When it's done, you'll travel ahead with her, and I shall follow."_

"_And she understand everything this entails?" asked the other man in the shaky voice of very old people. _That old man!! He was the doctor who'd examined the Duchess' body when it was found!

"_Completely," Eisenheim said._

Another vision hit him:

Edward, knowing he was being followed as he approached the carriage Bella was in, giving her the suitcase and kissing her. He'd actually checked to make sure the ex-Chief's assistant was following him!

"_Do you think Eisenheim's behind all this?"_

Another:

The Duchess being struck dead in the mirror by a gold- and jewel-encrusted sword. The same sword that had been found to kill her in real life, the sword belonging to the Prince! The illusionist catching her as she fainted.

"_So what, then, does it mean . . . to die?"_

Himself, wearily sitting across from Eisenheim as he interrogated him in his office for the second time.

"_What do you want?" he asked, still weary._

_Edward shrugged miserably. "Just to be with her."_

_The Chief froze, and a look of sympathy and awe flooded his face. "To be with her," he repeated slowly, almost pityingly._

Another memory of the way Eisenheim stared at the Duchess that evening when he'd held the sword, the way she stared back. . . . The way he kissed her that day in the square. . . . The way he'd rushed to her body at the river. . . .

Edward, at the same night he'd stared at the Duchess. _"Your sword is very beautiful," he said. "Might I see it?"_

He remembered the bottle of red liquid he'd found in the illusionist's house. It was the same shade of red as the wine the Prince had drunk before the Duchess had been killed. The ex-Chief gasped. She'd laced the Prince's wine with whatever was in that container! Which, of course, completely explained that servant seeing the Prince stumble and sway and hearing his words slur as the Prince followed the Duchess into the stables.

The ex-Chief gasped, all the pieces falling into place. He remembered some of the Prince's last words - _"He's a charlatan. He's a faker. He's planted everything."_

That was true. Charles remembered finding the folder labeled "ORANGE TREE" on the illusionist's desk. Edward knew how obsessed he was with that trick - he put the locket's instructions there on purpose, knowing Charles would find it that way when he explored his house.

The ex-Chief gasped again, imagining the way things _really _happened in his mind:

_The Duchess unsheathed the Prince's sword in the stable and poured some red liquid on it - the same dried liquid he'd found. The Prince was collapsed, unconscious, from her drugging him. She yanked off her locket, putting it into the hay with a green jewel pried loose from the Prince's sword, as instructed by Eisenheim. She then fake-collapsed on her horse so that no one would see the left side of her neck until she was properly disguised. _

Charles suddenly heard Eisenheim's voice in his head again, loud and clear as it had been when he'd heard it standing in his office. _"Everything you have seen is an illusion. It's a trick."_

He let his mind run free again, continuing to imagine the reality of this entire thing:

_The Duchess had been given a sleeping draught that made her appear dead, and that explained why Eisenheim wanted to be the first to reach her body. Once he'd put her into the carriage, still dirty and cut up from the river, he carefully dropped the antidote into her open mouth, and she woke with a gasp. _

The ex-Chief laughed slightly, so impressed with this greatest illusion ever that he was at a loss for words. He laughed again, loudly, and clapped his hands. He even took off his hat to the illusionist, even though he knew Edward was too far away to see or hear either of his movements. Charles laughed once more, and nodded, satisfied, but this time it wasn't just for the magnitude of the illusion that had been played on him - it was for happiness. He was happy for the man.

* * *

That afternoon, Edward got off the train and walked across the stones littering a small brook, headed for a cottage out in the middle of a valley between mountains, fifteen miles away from the closest village and completely hidden, even in its own huge field.

He walked toward the cottage with a face and step that became more eager as he went on, until he was nearly running.

When he got close enough, he could see her, brushing the horses' coats and wearing a riding outfit.

* * *

Hearing running footsteps, Bella turned around. Her delighted smile was instantaneous when she saw Edward finally come to the house. It was finished, then.

She ran into Edward's arms and they hugged each other tightly, Edward burying his face in her hair. They kissed.

When they finally parted, Edward handed her the locket he'd pick-pocketed from the Chief, and Bella immediately put it around her neck. They hugged tightly again, Edward burying his face in her hair, both of them just relishing the other's company again after so long an absence.

It was over, and they were free.

* * *

**That ending sucked. Hahah. Just thought I'd put that out there. The movie's ending is so much better. BUT that was the best I could do as of now. I'm working on like eight stories at a time here hahah one not even published yet. I'm not sure I even will publish it. Anyway, thanks to ALL my reviewers, and readers, and alert-adders, and favorites-adders, and the like! You don't know how much you meant to me during this story! **


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